A New Beginning
by EaglesFeather17
Summary: Cardverse AU: The Kingdom of Spades is in desperate times. An heir is needed, and time is running out. Can the four kingdoms finally set their differences aside and unite to find the future king? Or will an old conspiracy ruin their efforts? Away from the trouble, two sheltered twins are living in peace, unprepared for destiny's plans.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone! I'm back with another fic set in the popular Cardverse AU. This story is a prequel to my older work called _Watch Over Me._ Reading it first might make understanding this one easier, but I'm trying my best to make them as independent as possible.**

 **I am so thankful to my awesome beta reader Syntax-N who has greatly encouraged me to write this story. If you haven't already, check out her fanfiction _Hetafata_. It's one of the best you can find, I assure you.**

 **I don't own _Hetalia._**

* * *

 **A New Beginning**

The funeral wasn't anything special. Sure, the now former King of Spades had reached his prime during his time in power, but he had never once equaled the influence of his predecessors.

Arthur, Queen of Spades, fumbled at the cufflinks of his coat and looked passively at the grave the coffin containing his great-uncle was heaved into. It took ten men to pick up the heavy object, five more to navigate it to the prepared hole in the ground, and another three to gently place it inside. The King was a big man, or used to be, Arthur reminded himself. His only connection to the King had been solely on a professional basis, as he had served his uncle as Queen for years. The job was… peculiar. Behaving subservient to and so formal with a man who could have been his own father.

Who could have been his own father…

Arthur's mind spiraled away from the graveyard and began rummaging in his memories. The dead King used to have two sons, actually. Arthur's cousins, to be precise. But thinking of them was pointless now, the poised man noticed. They had been kidnapped or had disappeared years ago, though many could only assume the former. The boys were no more than three at the time. It would've been impossible for them to run away from the castle on their own.

The mysterious thing was that even after decades of looking for them, no one had found even a trace. The people had given up, and most unfortunately, their own family had ceased believing in their survival. Times of hopeless grief had come and suppressed any kind of joy in the royal family. The wounds in their hearts were permanent.

However, at long last, time had fulfilled its purpose and concealed the everlasting pain. It had not healed their hearts, but it had encouraged the people to move on and to accept the loss as only natural and inevitable. Now only few even remembered the little twins who had run around the palace, bugging their elder cousins to no end. They had been told to stop their annoying behavior, but they didn't listen. Again and again they pestered and annoyed their beloved cousins, whittling down the fibers of their patience, until one day, the eldest cousin couldn't handle it anymore and wished for them to disappear, to just go away—

It was amusing and horrifying how fate could play out.

Arthur locked his rising guilt back inside the emotional vault he had created for his feelings and wished he had thrown the key farther away. Some feelings managed to escape sometimes. He had tried his hardest to move on and to just forget about his young cousins. Still, no matter how closed-off he came across as, there was no denying that he was a doting family member. In his own way. He just couldn't remember his younger cousins' wide eyes and chubby cheeks and not feel responsible for them.

But he was chosen since birth to be Queen of Spades, and this had always required his whole attention, no matter how high his heart soared when he was asked to play with or to spend time with his young relatives. He never made exceptions. Not even at a funeral.

The blond looked up and gently adjusted his grand black top hat. The nearly constant peering at his hands and feigned sadness about the King's death tore at his nerves and rubbed his patience raw. He was not an impatient man by any means, but playing pretend for hours now was emotionally draining. This was one of the only weaknesses of royal privilege: burying true emotions under a trained facade.

If his face had been naturally more expressive, everyone attending the funeral would have been shocked to see a small, wry smile on his face as he thought about how much he had done and given up for his kingdom. He had never considered his personal limits twice and instantly went out of his comfort zone to serve Spades with all the devotion the Black Joker's power had given to him. He had always been the best at all his studies, making his mother and father proud. He had always been a mature role model for his younger cousins by following etiquette to a tee. And even more than these, he had been the anchor in the storm for the people of Spades during the War of Cards while his great-uncle had done nothing more than hide underneath his bed, waiting for the Warmonger of Hearts to come to his doorstep and rip his kingdom out of his very hands.

At this thought, a bigger smile graced his lips for others to see, followed by a light chuckle which was promptly stifled by an employed cough. So much honor was given this day for a weakling of a ruler who didn't deserve any of it.

But as he cynically expected, when the ceremony was over, the noble guests were picked up by carriages and brought to the castle for festivities, and all soon forgot the actual reason they had been invited. The lords and ladies laughed carelessly next to bubbling marble fountains and danced animatedly in flowing gowns and suits with tails. This lack of grieving only proved what an 'aspiring' legacy the last King of Spades had left behind.

* * *

Arthur stood stiffly off to the side, like he usually did, watching the guests with critical eyes. He assumed that actions like these added to him being perceived as standoffish, but one could never be careful enough when he had led a nation through arguably the most brutal war in the history of Cards. Besides, he was the Queen of the kingdom they were visiting.

"Why are you so limey, my friend?" A smooth voice spoke up next to him, and Arthur came face to face with a stubbly chin and a gush of sweet perfume that washed over his face in noxious excess. Francis. "Aren't you happy that you now have the chance to serve a king worthy of his position?"

"I do advise you not to speak like this about the former King of Spades, especially when you occupy the throne of Diamonds, Spades' most trusted ally, I might add," Arthur answered dryly and sniffed in distaste.

Going against any decorum, Francis nudged the Queen playfully with his elbow and chuckled. "I can see it in your eyes. You are relieved. But I do see something else there… Is it worry?"

It truly was extraordinary how well Francis could read people. But Arthur decided to give the King a hard time. He set his jaw in emphasis of his stoicism. "Not at all."

Francis hummed in thought and tapped his chin. "You are not even a tiny bit worried about the heir to the throne?"

Arthur glared at him and flared his nostrils, suddenly feeling as if his whole country had been insulted. "We have nothing to worry about."

He knew it was a lie, and that Francis was aware of this too, but he had one hope left he would later prefer to be confirmed. He had to keep this in mind at all costs. The future of the kingdom depended on it.

"If that is so, then you can loosen up and come with me. I was just about to return to the pretty ladies over there, but as I am such a loyal friend, I will help you mend some diplomatic relationships. You are truly not a social butterfly."

As was typical for Francis, he ignored Arthur's will and dragged him along like peasants would a sack of grain too heavy to be carried. While they broke through the masses of people to the other end of the great hall, the King of Diamonds blew countless kisses to each side, whether directed at women or men. He was just that charming, and his openness disgusted Arthur to a certain extent. The man dressed in orange violated most unspoken rules of royalty, though he was clothed like the king he was and was always up for planning parties and balls to please nobles.

Francis stopped abruptly, and Arthur embarrassingly ran into him and clutched his nose in pain. He glanced around the room in a split second of self-consciousness. Luckily, no one had noticed his mishap.

"Thank you so much for the invitation, your Majesty!"

It took a moment for Arthur to realize the happy, upbeat voice belonged the Jack of Hearts, Feliciano. The Queen of Spades smiled tightly and nodded respectfully at the both the spunky redhead and the raven-haired man next to him. This was the Queen of Hearts, who happened to be the Jack of Spades' brother.

"It was my pleasure," he replied. "I do hope you are enjoying yourselves."

So, there were the Jack and the Queen, which only left—

"I don't think you've met Luddy — em — Ludwig before. The heir to the throne of Hearts," the lively Jack said and grabbed a tall man whom Arthur was surprised to not have noticed before by the arm.

His flaxen hair was slicked back in a way that registered he was a considerably fussy man on terms of neatness, yet his sharp blue eyes would discourage any mockery. His face bore a deep frown and hinted its constant presence in the way his lips were turned downward. He was so tall that he easily overshadowed his companions, and his fine clothes confirmed his high position in society. Arthur squinted and made out that his jaw structure and ears resembled his elder brother's with almost ridiculous accuracy despite him being much more muscular than the former King.

"You look like Gilbert," the Queen of Spades blurted out without thought, and he knew he would chastise himself for this prudent slip of tongue later on.

The future King's eyes widened at the unexpected comment, and he slightly withdrew the hand he had been holding out to the Queen. Francis piped up and patted Arthur's shoulder while looking at him playfully: "Don't steal my lines, dearie. This is what wives are for."

"He does look like him, doesn't he?" Feliciano scrutinized the blond and, without warning, brought a hand up to squish his cheeks. The prince met his gaze with a glare and slapped the redhead's cheeky hand away like one would an annoying fly.

"I would appreciate you keeping away from my face," the tall man said, slightly blushing at Arthur's remark.

The Queen of Spades was startled by the deep voice and wondered how old the prince would be now. He couldn't just ask him, could he? That would be so unsophisticated—

"Say, your Highness, which birthday will you mark this year?" Francis asked, unfazed by Arthur's shocked expression. Seriously, he knew the King of Diamonds had good people skills, but this was simply unbelievable.

"I turned seventeen a few months ago," the teenager answered with as little emotion as a well-trained soldier. By now, even the normally composed Queen of Spades couldn't bite down his gasp and joined in with Francis.

Arthur frowned deeply. How could someone so young look so old and mature? To Prince Ludwig's defense, he had lost his father, mother, and brother in a span of six years, and the kingdom he would take over soon was in shambles with its reputation ruined… This didn't make his position any easier at all. Arthur almost pitied him. Almost. After all, his brother didn't have to start a war against Spades.

As gracefully as he could in this situation, Arthur changed the topic by excusing himself. "I must be going now. It was a pleasure to meet you. I will get back to you as soon as I can." He looked at Ludwig and found him to be smiling slightly. His eyes were shimmering with… hope… and maybe gratefulness?

"Thank you, your Majesty. I appreciate it."

The Queen nodded in turn and left the group, heading to his initial point from before. The reaction of the young heir was unexpected, he admitted. He felt the Prince of Hearts was different from his brother. Ludwig was well-behaved and seemed to be genuine and humble. But as his life motto stated: One could never be careful enough.

A timid cough of politeness aroused his attention, and Arthur allowed his valet, who had suddenly materialized next to him, to speak.

"The Jack of Spades requires your presence, your Majesty," the servant informed him.

Arthur bit down a tired sigh but nodded gratefully. The servant guided the blond through the crowd since he could never have located the man who had asked for him on his own.

There Yao stood as regally as always. He had jet-black hair and always insisted on wearing dress-like clothing instead of a true set of pants, just like the Queen of Hearts. This was fine with Arthur since he very much respected the Jack who'd been in service for a very long time now. Arthur excused the servant, and Yao took notice of his presence immediately, ushering him behind a wide pillar with a violent hand motion.

"Time is running out. I've been asked the question about the heir so many times now, and I am tired of finding excuses," the pale man complained while looking at Arthur with a half annoyed, half serious expression. No, he was only annoyed.

The blond nodded tiredly in agreement. "Me too. I suggest we ask Roswitha for an update right away." With determination, he added, "If this ends in a catastrophe, then we'll have no other choice but to take Plan B into consideration."

The Jack ran a hand through his hair, tousling some strands of his neat ponytail. "Let's just hope it won't come to that."

"My Lady, the Queen and Jack have arrived," a servant informed the woman who stood in the middle of a dark room using her fan to create almost violent gusts of wind. She glanced at the small boy sitting quietly behind her with a condescending look.

She spoke nasally. "Send them in."

The woman knew it would take a few more minutes for the royals to enter, so she used the small timeframe to whack the boy over the head, hissing threats in his ear. "I hope you will behave properly this time, Kyle. We don't want you to make the wrong impression again. Are we clear?"

The timid boy sat up rigidly, making sure his back did not touch the cushioned back of the chair. He then swallowed thickly and whispered, "Yes, mother."

"I didn't hear you. What did you say? You will never convince people of your authority when you keep being so quiet! Kings demand respect and voice their opinions loudly!"

"Yes, mother. I'm sorry, mother," the brunet tried again, but the woman's expression grew even more furious than before.

"Sometimes I do ask myself why I even keep such a hopeless brat around and take care of it," the countess growled. She pulled his ear in order to discipline him. "You. Will. Behave. Like a true. Prince."

The child let out a whimper like a slapped puppy as he feared for the worst. The moment the smartly-dressed woman folded her fan to use it, too, as an educational tool, the decorated door opened. This time it wasn't the servant, but the Queen and Jack of Spades.

Biting down her resentment towards the two royals, she curtsied deeply while her son bowed in the clumsy way children naturally did. What a waste of breath the boy was.

Arthur snapped his fingers and cleaned his monocle with a satin cloth as he walked up to the woman and greeted her. "Thank you for allowing us to steal some of your time again, Countess. As you know, this routine is of immense importance."

"Of course, your Majesty. How could I ever deny you time when the fate of this glorious kingdom is incredibly dear to me?"

Arthur saw how Yao glanced at him in suspicion, but the Jack brushed it aside. They both turned to the boy who had already retaken his seat. "Let's see…"

Yao unbuttoned the boy's jacket and removed his shirt, revealing almost sickly pale skin. Even the pasty Jack knew the child should get out more, but he chose not to address it. The royals and the countess regarded boy's back in thought. In particular they analyzed his right shoulder, where he bore the purple emblem of the Kingdom of Spades.

Arthur ran a gloved hand over the mark and pressed lightly. "Does it hurt?"

The boy shook his head, though the moment he looked over the Queen's shoulder and saw his mother's menacing expression, he changed his statement. "A little, your Majesty."

The blond withdrew his hand and sniffed. "Maybe the crown will appear in the next few weeks. Otherwise, we cannot declare him heir of Spades."

The countess lost her composure for a split second at this. "But your Majesty, the appearance of this little extra marking cannot hold such importance. How can we trust in fate more than human rationalism? Please see reason. Kyle, my dear son, is the eldest and therefore the only rightful heir."

The Queen only raised a furry eyebrow. "Oh, so you are of the notion that magic shall be completely ignored, then? I must tell you that only our patron saint, the Black Joker, can choose a successor, as unsettling as it is."

How dare this superstitious caterpillar tell me what to do?! The countess thought grimly. Her protest did not show on her face because her smile was stretched so tightly. "Of course not. But what if the Black Joker has just overlooked Kyle? He must be very busy, tending to his duties as… god…"

Somehow, Arthur doubted her faith. It was as if she did not believe in the supernatural at all! If only Tinkerbell knew about this… "We will soon have an heir. Be it Kyle or someone else, you mustn't worry about an unoccupied throne."

Yao took this as cue to excuse Arthur and himself. "We will see ourselves out. We do hope to see you attending the festivities in the ballroom downstairs, Countess. There are many people who would like to give you their condolences for your brother's death."

"Thank you, your Highness. My son and I will join you soon." The lady opened the door for the royals and curtsied again to see them off. She pushed down the handle quietly and locked the door. Then she imposingly advanced toward her son, who was cowering in fear, his heart pounding as if it might jump out of his chest in any moment.

"You will be the next king even if I have to tattoo a crown on your mark," she spoke coolly.

* * *

 **The first chapters are always the stiffest ones. Anyway, I hope you liked it and might give me some feedback. See you in the next chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Bollocks!"

"I'm not sure I've ever heard such a vulgar word escape your mouth, Arthur. And this is truly saying something since I've known you your entire life," Yao spoke calmly while pouring some milk in Arthur's teacup. They were sitting in a lounging room reserved only for the royals. Teatime was always the time of the day when both Jack and Queen came together to discuss the affairs of the kingdom, but it was more for enjoying their dear tea, really.

Arthur accepted the cup gratefully and sipped it with a hint of vexation as he remembered the countess' words from a few weeks prior. "Kyle's mark is still not showing any signs of change. What if Roswitha is right? What if the Black Joker has turned his back on us?"

The Jack plopped on the opposite sofa with his own tea. He took the cup from his lips and placed it daintily on the saucer. "Now this is certainly new. Since when do you doubt magical beings? I think Kyle isn't the rightful heir. Why would the Joker suddenly stop choosing the Kings of Spades? It's just not plausible."

The Queen crossed his legs and leaned back, trying to regain his collected composure. "I do apologize. Let's assume Kyle isn't fit to be King. The Joker must have chosen someone else."

Yao hummed in thought. "As Kyle is the eldest and thus the only possible successor, we can leave out your other cousins and family."

"You are absolutely correct. But who is it then?"

"Have you ever considered that Edgar and Merlin may still be alive?"

Arthur gasped and almost choked on his tea. After a small fit of coughing, he loosened the bow around his throat. "I have not, actually. I was quite young myself when they disappeared. And I only remember them to be annoying." He purposely left out any sort of emotional attachment to them. The hard truth would have been too painful to discuss.

Yao chuckled and blew away the steam over the brim of his cup. "Those two really were partners in crime, though I bet Edgar was always the one taking the initiative in their schemes."

The Queen looked into his tea in thought, watching how the liquid roiled in miniature waves when tilted. It would be splendid to see his cousins all grown up. As he still bore some love for them, he couldn't imagine the overwhelming joy that would come over him if he met them again… or even saw them from afar. "So, you think it's worth it to command the military to look for them? This is a great risk and an enormous effort considering we cannot even confirm Edgar is the true heir. Moreover, we have no idea what they would look like nowadays."

"You've got a point there. After so many years, finding them may be nearly impossible. It would be especially draining for the search party now that they're no longer little munchkins."

"But difficult times call for more difficult measures. Oh, we could commission painters to create updated pictures of them based on previous paintings," Arthur suggested.

"You mean the way it's sometimes done for criminals?"

"Now that you mention it, that method is certainly not fit for prospective royalty. Maybe we could—"

"I support your suggestion. We would have to make countless copies of the painting, though. The price would be staggering."

The Queen chuckled. "And this is exactly why you govern our kingdom's finances. You know we owe no one at the moment, and we have some leftovers from the reparations Hearts had to pay us for the war. Money wouldn't be the issue."

"If Edgar and Merlin were kidnapped as so many claim, they may not even be in the Kingdom of Spades," Yao said as he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.

"You might be right. As much as I'll regret doing this, a search party of this extent and importance wouldn't be a secret for long. The other kingdoms would know about it sooner or later."

Yao raised an eyebrow. "What would be wrong with that? They could help us. It's more efficient and favorable this way."

"Are you insane? What if the monarchs of another kingdom found the twins faster than us? They could then hold the heir for ransom." Arthur glanced out the window and wondered where beyond the vast meadows and trees his little cousins could be. Were they even still alive? Were they content or depressed?

"The only country I wouldn't trust completely is Clubs, but Queen Erzébet can easily control King Ivan, and her good virtues wouldn't allow her to play so unfairly. It would also reflect badly on her home country of Hearts, which is trying its best to make amends. Do you honestly believe that Francis of Diamonds would stand in your way? You two grew closer than ever during the war. It's surprising, really," Yao reminded him with a smile.

Arthur let out a long sigh. "That's true. Even if this search won't get us anywhere, there's always the possibility we find out what actually happened to them. I will see to the updated portraits and the printing of flyers."

The Jack nodded faithfully. "I will immediately contact the other royals and ensure they support us."

Arthur raised his teacup. "To a new beginning."

Outside the room, in the quiet hallway, a lonely figure stood in front of a window. It cast a long, dark shadow on the purple carpet and calmly fanned the air.

"To a new beginning indeed."

* * *

The sun bathed a wide cornfield in warm evening light as the darkening horizon announced the nigh night. A soft breeze carrying colorful leaves rustled the crops, and from a bird's eye view, the scenery looked like that of an ocean with rising tides and gentle waves. It was the epitome of rustic serenity, but unfortunately for the impending darkness and silence typical for fall, the genuine laughter of two young men didn't seem to be ending anytime soon.

"You'll never catch me, slowpoke!" The elder brother shouted at the other while he avoided stumbling over uneven patches of soil and accidentally ruining the rest of his family's harvest. He could only hear the pursuer's soft murmur of a voice behind him, which was muffled further by the wind that rushed past his ears so loudly he couldn't make out exact words. But he knew his brother well enough to know what he was saying. It was probably something along the lines of "It's getting dark! Let's go back!" or maybe "Al, stop! You'll fall and break your neck!"

"AL!"

Alfred slowed down and turned around, panting. "What is it, Mat?"

Matthew was on his hands and knees a few meters behind him, breathing heavily as if he might forget to swallow the generous amount of saliva he had been carrying around during their tiring games. Alfred rolled his eyes and went to his younger brother to pat his back in comfort. Seriously, why was he always such a spoilsport? On a different note, why didn't he exercise everyday like he should? What didn't come to the elder boy's mind was that maybe his own incredible endurance and stamina were not universal and could not apply to every person.

Matthew collapsed and flopped back first onto the itchy corn, using one arm to catch his coughs of exhaustion and the other to clutch his churning stomach.

"Whassup, Mat?" Alfred asked from above, playfully looking down on his brother.

The other answered him with a feeble attempt of a glare since he had exemplary manners, even towards his reckless brother.

"Mom said dinner's ready… D-didn't you hear that?"

This spiked Alfred's interest. How had he forgotten about how hungry he was while playing with his twin? A mischievous smile overtook him, and he could practically feel his brother's subsequent unease.

"I'll race you!" He roared, and with this glorious idea, Alfred took off while Matthew remained sighing and lying unmoving in the field.

Alfred bolted through the door of his family's small cottage, almost ripping it off its hinges, and into the warm kitchen. The delicious scent of home cooking overwhelmed his senses, and he didn't see when he smacked into a corpulent woman who shrieked in shock and almost lost hold of the steaming loaf of bread she was balancing on a cutting board.

"Alfred!" She scolded. But she smiled at the boy after he reflexively apologized with a peck on the cheek

"S'ry, mom," Alfred said and changed his direction to the table. With no regard for manners, he took his seat and grabbed both fork and knife, holding them hungrily and eyeing the hot pot in front of him. Man, dinner was the best time of the day! He loved spending time with his family and always looked forward to the moments they were together and not constantly occupied with work, work, work.

He liked the food, too.

He then noticed how his brother slipped into the seat next to him in a quiet manner only typical for Mat. Provokingly, he kicked his leg underneath the table. Matthew answered with a long, suffering sigh before chastising him like Alfred had expected.

"You gotta wait for me, Al. I'm not as fast as you," he said as he ran a sweaty hand through his locks. The poor boy had clearly just spent all his energy on this last race to home.

"'Course you're not! No one's as fast as the Hero!"

"Alfred, stop this conceited behavior at once." The deep voice came from his side of the room, and with a start, both Alfred and Matthew saw their beloved father stepping into the light. Big smiles graced the boys' faces when he came over to hug them.

"Dad, you're finally home! We've been waitin' for you!" Alfred laughed and playfully took his father's hat off his head. The man didn't even comment on it. It was a normal occurrence, really.

"Have you sold much at the market?" Matthew asked quietly, a hint of fear tainting his soft voice.

"I sold everything we harvested, my son," their father told him gently and ruffled his hair. "It'll be enough. And thanks to your hard work, my boys, we can await a good harvest next year, too. I'm proud of you."

Their mother joined in by greeting her husband lovingly and making him comfortable after his exhaustingly long journey. She took his heavy coat, snatched his hat out of Alfred's cheeky hand, and planted a big kiss on his bearded cheek. He returned it with a smile.

"Matthew, please get the wine from the cellar," the mother told her son gently.

"We're living the fancy life today, aren't we, sweetheart?" Her husband chuckled.

"Well, you've been gone for a long time, my darling."

"Yeah, dad, where did you actually go?" Alfred asked excitedly while leaning far over the table in the direction of his father. He propped up his head on his hands like he was about to hear the tale to end all tales. Matthew rolled his eyes at this and stood up to fulfill his mother's wishes.

"I went to the capital. There's the biggest market in all of Diamonds!"

Alfred's eyes became round like saucers, and one could even say they were filled with sparkling stars. "Did you see the royal family? What does the castle look like from the inside? Did you go to the royal gardens? Why's our national color orange? Did you find that out?"

"Alfred," the man cut him off, smiling tiredly, "I didn't even go near the castle. The market is at the city gates."

"Aw, man," Alfred groaned as he slumped in his seat. "I gotta go there myself one day. I wanna see what the royals spend all our taxes on."

His mother's gaze grew intense, and she distracted herself with the wine bottle her younger son pressed in her arms, looking for a way to open it. She knew they weren't poor, or at least were not as bad off as some families a few kilometers away. Nonetheless, she didn't want to imagine the years her son would have to work and save money to be able to afford the journey to the capital.

She herself would love to go there, too. She would be able to see fancy shops hosting high quality and perhaps even luxurious products. And she would be able to indulge herself in high-class society just to get a glimpse of the life she could have led, had she been born into another, more privileged family.

But listening to the animated chatter at the dinner table reminded her of why she was enduring all the hardships life presented to her. She loved her children and husband dearly, and she would give everything to offer her family a better life. The female patron of the household would readily step up to work longer hours and do even more straining jobs if she had the reassurance to be paid better.

But it was already uncommon enough for a woman to work and to be relatively independent from her husband in the times they were living in, and more of this would be frowned upon by society. Besides, she had a loving husband, two wonderful children, enough to keep them fed, (though it was difficult with Alfred's never-shrinking appetite,) and a roof over her family's heads. What more could she hope for?

She fished out four glasses and filled two of them with the sweet red liquid and the others with water from the well before setting them on the table. She sat down next to her younger son and nudged him, reminding him of the daily prayer.

Matthew wrung his hands nervously before folding them and bringing them to his forehead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that his family had taken the same position, so he began to speak.

"We praise the Red Joker for the care he gives, so that food and love are never amiss. You, godly being, have your expectations, and we give our best to meet them, but know that we are only mortals, and thus cannot exceed them."

Matthew glanced around in uncertainty, adding a quiet "At least not all the time…" to not sound too pessimistic.

His father and mother looked pleased and started filling the plates with some of the steaming food. The family raised their glasses to a toast. Cheering and clinks ran through the air.

"To dad!" Alfred shouted and Matthew whispered simultaneously. Even to their mother, it was funny to see how similar her children's appearances were but how differently their personalities had evolved since when they had been toddlers.

* * *

Red smoke drifted through a busy crowd of town people, almost touching their legs but always slithering around them in the last moment. The thickened air stretched and bent, always changing its inconsistent form from moment to moment. It seemed to have a personality as its peak took the time to look at different merchandise and bargains. All the while, the ignorant humans bustling through the market place never seemed to even notice its presence.

The smoke didn't react to the noise and active movements around it. It was only focused on not being trampled on and finding a way out of the crowd. A gust of wind got it off track, and the smoke was blown apart and against a wall. A new layer of its personality shined through as it shook its peak in a manner that would hint human dizziness. It then disappeared into a dark, empty alley, away from the animated town, to compose itself.

It was quiet, as if the noise of people had suddenly vanished completely. The smoke swirled and spiraled. It darkened and gathered until it was solid enough to resemble a human body. A pale hand pulled out of the mystical material, followed by a pointy nose and a demonic tail. The dark air morphed into a slim man with white hair and startling red eyes. Two sharp horns sprouting out of the sides of his head formed last, and the creature smirked smugly while swishing away excess red smoke from his black jacket.

The man stepped forward, and his heels clicked menacingly on the stony floor. He approached a house wall with torn flyers featuring two young men. He had seen these portraits all over town. They were plastered in every nook and cranny like wallpaper in a castle.

A long finger ran over the artwork, tracing the taller boy's illustrated facial features like his cowlick and bright smile. The man's ruby gaze flickered to the next boy. He looked freakishly similar to the first, but his eyes were filled with diffidence, and his back was slightly bent. The man read the title and soon realized these were the same boys who had gone missing long ago and were still of royal standing if the Spadian crest printed on the sheet was anything to go by.

"You two are special, eh? We'll see about that," he rasped and laughed. With quick movements, the white-haired man peeled off the glue from the back of the flyer and folded it, tucking it inside his jacket.

An explosion occurred, and the mysterious man disappeared into a puff of red smoke with a piercing screech, leaving ringing silence and emptiness in the alley.

* * *

A young boy was lounging on a wooden bed, flipping pages of an old book and reading attentively. He traced inky letters that were conveying instructions of potion-making and spells. Slowly, he lost himself in the sheer beauty of the fading artwork, and only a loud, cracking boom in a neighboring room was outrageous enough to make him forget his magic lessons. He snapped the book shut and sprinted out to greet the person with excitement.

"Gilbert! You're back!" The boy chirped. He hugged the white-haired man, who was coughing wetly and sputtering curses.

"Hi there, kid," Gilbert said once he had composed himself. He smiled and petted Peter's head affectionately. Another cough escaped his throat, and he rubbed his chest in minor pain. It was high time for him to learn another teleportation spell unless he wanted to stick to the old one. Though classy and iconic, it made noxious red smoke swirl around and stick in his throat wherever he popped into existence.

As if he could read minds, Peter's expression changed to one of mirth, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "You should stop smoking, you know? It's making your voice sound all raspy."

Red eyes rolled in annoyance, and Gilbert proceeded into the "kitchen" of their little "apartment". The two Jokers were dwelling in a stony cave in a secluded forest on the shores of Hearts. No one else knew about them, and they preferred to keep their existence a secret. It wasn't as if they could just pop out of nowhere and scare people, but it would be funny and satisfying. They were Jokers, after all.

As Gilbert had learned from an old wizard named Bisi, who could sense magical beings in the four kingdoms, an ability only few were graced with, the Jokers' purpose was to advise the Kings of Hearts, Diamonds, Clubs, and Spades. Unfortunately, the wizard couldn't tell him anything else about a Joker's responsibilities and duties since he disappeared shortly after their brief meeting. None of Gilbert's concern, but it was a loss for him to be deprived of a reliable source of information.

Which left Gilbert almost where he had started: confused about his existence and purpose as Joker. His new, lonely, and senseless life had brightened a bit when he picked up an abandoned child from the streets named Peter. He tried to teach the kid everything he knew, but it wasn't much to begin with, as he himself wasn't entirely sure what he should even know and believe in.

"Did you read the book I gave you this morning?" Gilbert clipped with an almost dangerous note similar to that of an expectant mother. He shrugged off his jacket and laid it flat over a kitchen chair. He then sunk down and started untangling the laces of his high-heeled boots.

"Yep," the blond boy answered shortly and leaned against the doorframe.

The elder Joker looked up and raised an already arched eyebrow at him. "Then you know everything, and I can ask you about the spells later."

Peter wriggled under the piercing gaze and looked to the floor, mumbling boldly, "Why do I even have to know that…?"

"What was that?"

The boy gathered himself and looked straight ahead. "Why do I have to learn this stuff?"

Gilbert stood up with his jacket slung over his one arm while holding the boots with the other. Despite now being considerably shorter, he still looked dangerous, and Peter knew he would still be wary of the man for several more years to come.

"I want you to be prepared for when I'm not here anymore and can't look out for you—" Gilbert spoke truthfully but cut himself off. He knew he was still stuck on his old mindset and sometimes automatically confused Peter with his own little brother, whom he had to tell the same thing over and over again. He started anew with, "I want you to be able to fend for yourself."

The little Joker gasped throatily, and sudden tears rimmed his teal-colored eyes. "You want to kick me out, too? Just like mom and dad and not-mom and dad?!"

"What?! No!" Gilbert groaned and wondered where his social capacities had gone, (if he'd ever had any to begin with.) He quickly hung his jacket on the rack and put down his shoes in the "entrance way" before being back at Peter's side, hopelessly trying to sort out this misunderstanding. Kids these days. Still, how could he say that to him? He was aware of the horrors the boy had had to endure in his life. Peter had been abandoned twice, and the time with his families hadn't been any less abusive than his life as a street rat. That world was mean.

"Do you really think I'd just cast you out on the very streets I picked you up from? That'd be just plain stupid. And I'm not stupid. I'm awesome. You know that."

The Red Joker bent down and gathered the small boy in his arms, and just for a moment, it felt like hugging Ludwig. No! It was insulting to assume he only took care of Peter to compensate the loss of his own brother! No, he was fond of the cheerful boy for who he was, and everyone who had caused him pain would pay for it one day. Gilbert just had to think of how he would make them pay.

What would it be? Transforming into hideous monsters like changelings and werewolves to chase Peter's former bullies around? Or lurking behind a corner, only to jump out and scare the shit out of them? Nah, these ideas were for sissies. He'd been the most fearsome person in the four kingdoms! He had to come up with better stuff…

"You're having that look in your eyes again…"

In the time his fantasies of revenge had gone wild in his head, Gilbert hadn't noticed that Peter was leaning as far away as he could in his embrace. The Red Joker shook his head and looked at the boy confusedly. "Which look?"

"You know… sometimes you look completely mad and power-hungry when you're alone in your head," Peter choked out, dried tears clinging to his cheeks.

Gilbert smiled fondly, revealing sharp teeth. When he was still King of Hearts, he'd been told the same by his closest advisors all the time. "Yeah, sorry. I'm just ambitious and am already happy when I get what I want in my imagination."

But Gilbert decided to change the topic. "I have something to show you! Sit down!"

Peter did what he was told, and a few seconds later, Gilbert pressed a wrinkled paper onto the kitchen table in front of him. It was showing two young men. Both had the same hair color and facial features. But it was obvious, in some strange way, that their personalities differed a lot.

"Who are they?" Peter asked. He scrutinized the emblem of Spades beneath the pictures.

"The taller one is Edgar, and the other is Merlin of Spades," Gilbert told him offhandedly while rummaging through the shelves of their provisional kitchen to find something to eat.

"Of Spades? Are they royals?" Confusion grew in the boy's voice.

"They are. They were kidnapped when they were kids. Seventeen years ago."

"That's a long time. I wasn't even alive back then. How do you know?"

Gilbert suppressed a laugh when he finally found a slice of stale bread in a corner. "We might be Jokers, but we're not living behind the moon. Besides, I've made plenty of good connections in my lifetime."

"That's hard to believe. You must have been either rich or noble for that, and—" Peter looked behind him when he heard a loud crunch and noticed it was Gilbert ripping old and slightly greasy bread with his teeth. "You really don't behave the part."

"Not all royals act like Roderich the Pansy." Gilbert moved to stand behind him and leaned over his head, still munching and scattering crumbs all over the place.

Luckily for Gilbert, Peter, disgusted at freeing his hair from the toxic remains of bread, didn't make the connection between this hated "Roderich" and the very real Jack of Clubs. Otherwise, the Red Joker would have had a lot of explaining to do. He wanted his previous life as the malicious King of Hearts to remain a secret, as he didn't want to intimidate Peter more than he already did.

The boy brushed away the crumbs from the illustrated faces on the paper and fixed his eyes on them. "Why are they looking for them now after seventeen years? That doesn't make any sense…"

A wet washcloth materialized under his chin, followed by Gilbert's loud voice. Apparently, it was to be used as a mike. Gilbert's questionable showman qualities at their finest. "You are absolutely correct, Mr. Peter! What are your assumptions on this matter?"

"Get this stinky thing away from me, Gil. I think they must be important again. But for what, I really don't know."

A white finger tapped on the Spadian crest to give him a hint. "So, they are needed for the royal family?"

Gilbert hummed and traced a crown on Edgar's head. Peter gasped. "Wait! I heard Spades doesn't have a King anymore! The last one died a few weeks ago, right? I've been wondering who's going to inherit Spades' Kingship."

The Red Joker tousled the boy's hair and patted his shoulder. "I knew I made the right decision when I took you in. You know, Spades does have eligible heirs, but none of them has received the right mark."

"Right mark?"

"Good that you're asking, little man. I thought you noticed how your mark changed when you became a Joker. A true heir of a kingdom keeps his or her previous mark until the incumbent ruler is dead. Then a crown will appear above the mark. It's as simple as that."

Peter looked at his hands silently. "It's fate that chooses who becomes who, isn't it?"

"Yes," Gilbert gently confirmed. "All of us were taught that Jokers are responsible for the Deciding, and this is what everyone thinks. But we, the Jokers, are the first ones who can deny this assumption. This makes the secret surrounding Spades even more interesting."

"I see… What exactly is our job, Gil?"

The Red Joker sighed tiredly. "If I only knew. Sometimes I believe fate threw me into this confusing life just to punish me for all my wrongdoings."

The boy laughed freely. It was a sound like soft, ringing bells. "You might be impulsive and rugged, but you're too soft to hurt even a fly."

"Well, flies don't have an army, do they?" Gilbert replied, pushing the gnawing guilt of the war he had caused to the back of his mind.

"I guess not, though the number of flies that were on the bread you ate came close to one…"

"Oh, come on!" the elder Joker groaned. "We should support the search party looking for Edgar and Merlin. I have a feeling that's what we need to do!"

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thank you for your kind words! I really apprechiate it!**


	3. Chapter 3

Farm life was hard work. This was one of the few things Alfred and Matthew could fully agree on. Despite this, the siblings never moaned about getting up at 5 o'clock sharp to help their parents milk the cows and never complained about feeding all the farm animals. Not even going out in pouring rain could stop them from supporting their family. They had never known another life, and so the mindset of "either work or starve" came quite naturally.

This was why the twins were currently standing in the barn trying to get an old cow out of her stall. As usual, Alfred was being difficult.

"Could you please help me, Al?" Matthew asked while hopelessly attempting to pull the cow with the rope he had knotted around her beefy neck. The animal didn't even budge and stayed rooted at the spot. She raised her head and looked down on him with pride in her unwieldiness.

Alfred took pity on him and pushed away from the wooden wall. Casually, he put a new straw between his teeth and chuckled at his younger brother's struggle. He strode over, took the rope, and pulled as hard as he could. The cow fought back and tried to retain her secure footing, but she soon noticed she would just have to cooperate with the force. The elder sibling tied her down at a nearby wooden plank and huffed.

"There you go," he told Matthew and returned to his initial chilling point, inspecting the wear and tear of his shirt like he had nothing else to do. His mother would have to darn the holes at the seams again, darn it.

Matthew looked at him annoyed since he knew Al had done enough according to himself and wouldn't move again for the next twenty minutes. He sat down on a small stool and positioned a bucket underneath the cow before beginning to milk her.

"Mother told you to tend to the chickens if you don't milk Chloé. And as it's me who's squeezing the teats, you should do what she said," the younger one pressed, still clearly annoyed with Alfred for his laziness.

Alfred rolled his eyes and rolled up his sleeves. He bent down to playfully tousle his disgruntled brother's hair, a smile spreading on his face. "I sure will, Mat. Loosen up a bit, will ya?"

Mathew groaned and pushed his hand away, shaking his head only as angrily as his docile nature allowed. "Just do it, okay? I don't want to get in trouble."

"Oh, please! As if mom and dad will get angry. I just want to lighten things up a little…" Alfred's voice faded into the background noises from the other animals. Soonafter, Matthew was missing his presence all together.

Something was going on.

"Al? Where did you go?" He called out, his voice quavering. But there was no response. Minutes passed, and a cold gust of wind blew inside the barn, making Matthew shiver. Even the animals displayed restlessness and nervousness in their abrupt movements. Not a trace of Alfred whatsoever…

"Gotcha!" A very familiar voice shouted suddenly, and a freezing shock jolted through Matthew's body when a bucket of ice-cold water was dumped over his head.

"A-alf-fred!" the younger spluttered. He felt as though his body were freezing over from the outside in. The wicked coldness seeped through his clothes and right through his flesh to the bone.

His brother, of course, laughed out loud and almost toppled over onto the now-muddy floor of the barn. He was clutching his stomach and wiping tears from his eyes. His face was bright red with mirth. "I can't take you seriously with that look, haha!"

The younger twin peeled soaking strands of hair off his cheeks and pouted. Then his violet eyes turned to slits, and he grabbed another water-filled bucket in quiet determination.

Enough was enough.

He swung the tin bucket with as much strength as he could muster at his brother. But unluckily, such force was enough for him to accidentally let go of it. It gracefully sailed through the air before spilling its contents all over Alfred and hitting his brother square in the face.

Clang.

"Dude!"

Matthew ran over to him immediately, concern replacing his anger. Nervous hands fiddled around before they found a forming bruise on Alfred's forehead. "I'm so sorry, Al! I didn't mean to. You made me angry, a-and I lost control, and I just—"

"It's alright, Mat," The elder said and grinned, though his face wasn't free of pain. "I've got a thick skull!" To make his point, he knocked his damp head in emphasis. It sounded rather hollow in Matthew's mind.

The younger twin placed a hand over his heart and sighed in relief. Then his expression grew serious again. "You started it!"

"Is that an invitation to another round? Here you go!" Alfred hooted. He picked up a third bucket and emptied its contents all over Matthew, who shrieked once more.

"AHHH! ALFRED!"

"What in the world are you two doing?!" Snapped a feminine voice. Alfred gulped when he saw his mother standing in the entranceway, her hands stern on her hips. The moment she noticed how soaked her children were, her motherly side covered her anger. She ran up and engulfed them with a worn horse blanket, trying to warm them up by rubbing their arms hastily. "It is so cold out here! I don't want you to get sick!" She reminded her children with worry.

Her foot bumped against a bucket, and she glared at the twins. "Why did you use the good well water for that?" She slapped Alfred over the back of his head and shook her own. "What am I going to do with you?"

Alfred and Matthew exchanged guilty looks and apologized. Their mother couldn't stay vexed with them for too long and, as if magic had been involved, her expression softened. "At least take off your wet clothes until a warm bath is ready. Now, come on inside."

The two followed their mother to the house, huddling together in the blanket and trying to cease each other's shivering. They took the command to sit down in the living room. Their father brought them hot tea and looked at them in disappointment.

"You have no idea how risky getting sick can be, you reckless boys." A small smile appeared on his face, and he winked at them. "At least you had fun together. It's unfortunate we don't have close neighbors with kids your age to make friends with."

Alfred nodded eagerly while Matthew looked at his hands. The elder twin started pulling his wet socks off his feet. Matthew followed and stripped off his sticky shirt.

"Al?" The longer-haired sibling asked, confusion surfacing in his voice. "What is that?"

Alfred turned to him while he undressed and noticed how Matthew pointed at his now-bare shoulder. "I don't know. That spot's kinna itchy. I bet it was one of those aggressive mosquitos from the lake!"

"No, there's no mosquito bite. Al, your mark has changed!"

"What?" Alfred started turning on the spot, trying to get a glimpse of his right shoulder like an excited puppy chasing its tail. "I wanna see!"

The change in his brother's birthmark made Matthew uneasy, and he called out for his parents with wild concern. Both mother and father came running to them and looked at Alfred's shoulder, shocked.

"I have never seen anything like this before!" The father exclaimed and played with his beard in thought.

"What if he's sick?" Their mother asked anxiously. She pressed a warm hand around the Spadian mark as if it were a fragile creature in need of physical contact.

"Guys, what are you doing? I wanna see it! What does it look like?" Alfred pressed and wiggled impatiently under his family members' gazes. He would have run off to the bathroom to have a look himself if his father hadn't been keeping a tight grip on his arm.

"It doesn't look bad at all…" Matthew commented while adjusting his glasses, though he was still troubled by this new discovery.

"Thanks, Mat. Really helpful."

"There's a golden crown above the mark, sweetie. We don't know why it's there or even what it means, so I suggest we keep it under strict supervision until we can find a suitable doctor."

Alfred groaned loudly, not happy at all about the new restrictions on his freedom. "Great."

"You shouldn't take this lightly, son. Marks don't just change. This isn't normal and could mean something serious."

* * *

Prince Ludwig of Hearts was not amused. He had taken the straining voyage from his palace to Spades just to lose time with this senseless meeting? Something must have gone very wrong with the planning of this sudden royal affair.

The young Prince looked around with trained eyes, observing how the other royals, who had also taken the time to attend the meeting for the lost heir of Spades, made fools of themselves. Queen Arthur and King Francis were arguing about whatever came to their minds. Jack Roderich and Jack Basch were glaring at each other with Queen Lilly hopelessly trying to keep the peace. At least Jack Yao and Queen Kiku were speaking civilly. King Ivan was sitting behind them with his usual creepy smile. No one knew what was up with him, but Queen Erzébet kindly told him to stop intimidating the other royals.

Of course, he couldn't only accuse foreign heads of state of such childish behavior. His own Jack was currently whining again about how he had missed lunch the day before when pasta had been served. He just had to take a siesta whenever he wanted and then dare accuse Ludwig of not having changed the schedule his servants had been following since their employment.

Was he the only sane person in this room?

The chattering and angry remarks flying through the room became louder with every passing second, and at this point, Ludwig decided to remind them of the reason they had actually come together and left their home kingdoms without rulers.

With a grunt, he peeled from his arm the hands of his sniveling Jack and grabbed his quill, tapping it against the glass in front of him with the practiced class expected of an heir. An heir for Hearts, at least. The other royal families seemed like brutes to him.

The clinks were met first with indifference as the noise continued to grow more intense. Ludwig felt like he would snap any moment now, but maybe shouting at them would actually make a difference.

Luckily for him, Queen Arthur took notice of the attempt to bring social graces to this meeting and interrupted his argument with King Francis. The orange-clad ruler replaced a feather on his hat that had come loose during his shouting. The Queen tapped Jack Yao's shoulder, and he respectfully ended his discussion with his brother dressed in red.

Silence fell over the room. Even Basch and Roderich tore their gazes away from each other. Ludwig cleared his throat in an exaggerated way to indicate the ridiculousness of the whole situation. He, a seventeen-year-old, was honestly acting more mature than grown Kings and Queens who had been in office for years.

"I'd like to return to the matter at hand, if you don't mind." He spoke gravely and annoyed at the same time, throwing powerful glances around the room and silently praying no one would criticize his attempt at authority. Despite having the appearance of an adult, Ludwig didn't feel like one at all. He was insecure about a lot of things.

The most obvious of these was being the only one left living in his family. It was as if some power beyond his comprehension arbitrarily decided who to kill off and who to let live in such a short amount of time. His father died when he was six, his brother when he was ten, and his mother when he was twelve.

Although he would never say this out loud, his brother's death had been the hardest on him. While his mother and father's had been sudden, and while he loved them with all his heart, Ludwig had had to live through the pain of watching his brother slip away and be torn apart by his unknown and hopeless illness. He had seen how he was wasting away with more and more energy being sucked from his soul with each passing day.

And for a ten-year-old, this had been hell on earth.

Even in the present, every moment he closed his eyes, a certain scene played in front of him. He saw a small, blond boy with blue eyes too big for his size standing next to a four-poster bed and holding a frail hand. Said hand belonged, of course, to his big brother. The man was trembling and wheezing despite painfully trying to hold strong. The little boy had dried tears clinging to cheeks, already prepared to see the man pass away. The cold, bony hand let go of Ludwig's and caressed the child's face, wiping the tears away, though with effort. Red eyes gleamed with love instead of death, and he smiled as if he were only tired.

"I love you so much, Luddy. I know you will be a great King," the invalid rasped. A few coughs rattled his thin frame.

"I will make you proud," the boy promised with such fierce determination it was heart-wrenching.

The white-haired man shook his head, chuckling weakly to himself about the child's answer. "You couldn't make me any prouder."

A few days later, the King of Hearts was nowhere to be found even with the whole kingdom proactively supporting the search parties. The only remnant of Ludwig's older brother was his nightgown, which a farmer had stumbled upon in the forest. Considering the King's waning health, it was unthinkable he could have left the palace and survived the cold nights without someone taking care of him. He was declared dead soonafter.

Ludwig swallowed thickly. His throat felt raw from acid. He knew these past events had made him so quiet and introverted. But he had a rational mind, and it urged him to move on.

This was the most crucial reason he had agreed to support the search party for Edgar and Merlin. Because for them, there was still a modicum of hope no matter how small it appeared to be. And he would never hesitate to help mend broken families.

"Luddy?" A timid voice asked. The tall blond was poked in the shoulder by a tanned finger. The prince blinked and looked down on the redhead seated next to him. Feliciano's expression was filled with concern.

"What is it?" The prince asked curtly. "Please return your attention to Queen Arthur. It would be disrespectful not to listen."

The last words tumbled out of his mouth without intention. Only after Feliciano's poke did he notice that Queen Arthur giving a speech in front of a map of the four kingdoms. The Jack gaped at him and was about start a new sentence, but Ludwig's disapproving look beat him to it.

"I thought you didn't listen…" the Jack of Hearts mumbled, slightly disappointed at his King's thoroughly present attention.

Queen Arthur, meanwhile, tapped on the map with his long pointer and talked about where the united search parties had already been. There were countless pins in the cardboard, filling out each kingdom almost completely. Nonetheless, the Queen asked for direct information from his guests.

"King Francis. Where haven't your guards been yet?" The blond asked, bending his pointer in subtle exasperation.

The King of Diamonds unbuttoned his adorned jacket with great gesture, probably to play for time. He was about to speak, but his Jack stole the show.

"The Queen of Diamonds will inform you, your Majesty." The Jack of Diamonds stood up, and a timid girl followed him to the front. She was carrying papers in folders, and her big green eyes darted from side to side in uncertainty. Basch stood behind her and looked as intimidating as the guard dog he was, eliminating any rude comments in the heads of the audience before they could even blossom.

Lilly flattened out her orange dress and opened the folders, glad the papers didn't fall out all at once. "Our soldiers have combed through every land from Gemonde to Chériche and not found the missing princes… yet."

Her voice trailed off, and Lilly looked for her brother's approval in his direction. He gently ushered her to move on. "General Carriedo has reported that, um, the military cannot properly search in the secluded areas since they are not equipped for such terrain. They would have to return to Gemonde and exchange. There is also a complication with the scattered farm houses because no one knows their exact locations."

The Queen curtsied quickly and returned to her seat after Basch bullied the audience into clapping. Lilly smiled at Erzébet who winked at her and gave her a thumbs-up like a proud, big sister even though they were only distant relatives.

Arthur swiftly returned to his spot at the front and asked for a representative of Clubs to continue. Roderich stood up and made his way to the map, though his gait was painfully slow. No one knew why he was so easily out of breath, but most plainly blamed laziness and his inflated ego. The Jack sat down on a bystanding chair and crossed his legs as if his presentation was going to take a long time. Then he demonstratively leaned his cane, (which was all for show like his glasses,) against the wall and fussed over its angle before finally speaking.

"Clubs hasn't found the missing princes either." He haughtily looked at the other royals with dignity in his posture. Then he grabbed his fancy walking cane again and stood up, unfazed by the baffled reaction of the audience.

The Jack of Diamonds uttered the unspoken. "Is that all? Have you even planned what you wanted to say? Your presentation was as crappy as your whole being."

Although the last sentence was over the top, no one disagreed with Basch. No one except Roderich, of course. "I had it all planned out, you insolent fool. You couldn't have done it better," the brunet said and retook his seat next to his wife Erzébet. She took his hand and stroked it affectionately.

Ludwig saw this as his real cue to stand up and ease the situation. Luckily, Basch and Roderich were closely related to him and sometimes listened to his advice. Who was older again?

"Apparently, Clubs doesn't have any clues about Merlin and Edgar's whereabouts, and neither does Hearts. We have looked for them in the forests and on most of our islands. We face similar problems concerning inaccessible islands where debarking would only endanger our troops."

"This didn't stop your brother when he was in charge," a deep voice coated with childish innocence commented from the side of the room. Everyone's attention snapped to the King of Clubs, who had been awfully quiet throughout the meeting thus far. Ludwig felt how his hands tightened and trembled around the papers he was holding. He wasn't sure whether this statement made him nervous or angry.

Before the Prince of Hearts could defend himself, the man dressed in green continued. "Maybe you have already found them and are simply not telling us about it. This is the way your family operates."

Ludwig's back grew rigid, and he felt himself slipping completely into an I-must-defend-my-family-or-else-I'd-be-an-utter-disgrace mode. "The same assumption could be made about Clubs. You have always been meddling in other people's business, after all," he replied coolly.

"Now, now. We are here to form an alliance and not to harass each other," the King of Diamonds cut in with a calm attitude before things could become ugly. Unfortunately, the other monarchs completely ignored his attempt at settling their argument.

"How dare you accuse us of such things?! You have adopted your brother's foul attitude," King Ivan snarled.

Ludwig, meanwhile, tried his best to stay calm and collected. He had had enough opportunities to train his reaction to accusations, and unfriendly comments about his country's history were frequent occurrences. Nevertheless, he had sworn to always take Gilbert's side in these matters. "I am not my brother and have my own opinions and thus make my own decisions. But he has always been correct about your shady actions and self-oriented decisions."

The King of Clubs rose from his seat and menacingly advanced toward Ludwig and company, almost stomping on the polished floor. To Ludwig's surprise, normally neutral Kiku and fearful Feliciano moved closer to his sides as if to back him up. The blond was more thankful for this gesture of support than he let on while he stared Ivan down.

A glaring match between the young prince and the King arose, bringing tension to the meeting room. It seemed like everyone was holding his or her breath, intensely waiting for one of the two to make the first move. Ivan's eyes were full of hatred and a lust for vengeance. To a certain degree, Ludwig could understand his reaction. His brother had really done a number to Ivan's kingdom and even diplomatically excluded him from the other kingdoms at the war's end. Of course, this had resulted in the economic and social isolation of the frosty kingdom, endangering its citizens and lowering their standard of living drastically.

Still, there was no reason to blame a relative of the former King of Hearts for a war that had been over for just about seven years now. Said kingdom was even still dutifully paying reparations while building itself up again. Ludwig, however, chose to stay quiet so as to not provoke the King over such a sensitive matter. He had to stay aloof and neutral. Otherwise, he would come across as the villain and support Ivan's accusations.

The hosts of Spades finally saw their cue to step between the two opposing parties, deciding quickly that using guards to settle this argument would be taken as a serious insult. This was why Arthur and Yao were glad to see the Queen of Clubs laying a calming hand on King Ivan's shoulder to gently and slowly pull him away from the representatives of Hearts. Surprisingly for Ludwig, his cousin Roderich didn't show any sign of jealousy towards his wife's display of affection. He must have matured a little since becoming Jack of Clubs. The young prince had only ever known him to be involved in petty fights with Gilbert over Erzébet.

Yes, the Queen of Clubs certainly was an enigma in herself. It was truly remarkable how she could employ both softness and toughness to pursue her goals in a world made for men. She was ambitious but tender and caring at the same time. Erzébet was the perfect example of how an adventurous spirit and royal etiquette could correlate in harmony. As such, it was obvious to everyone that she was the only true monarch of Clubs, even when she was reigning from Ivan's shadow.

The huge King of Clubs seemed to have set his anger aside and dutifully sat down again on the chair reserved for him. Of course, Ludwig couldn't let his guard down, especially not when Ivan was looking at him with a smile too bright to be sincere. It wasn't a smirk, but it wasn't a happy grin either. Seeing no sense in accidentally inflaming Ivan's anger again, Ludwig lightly tugged at his companions' jackets and encouraged them to sit down with him.

The Queen of Spades awkwardly coughed in his embroidered handkerchief and decided to let the meeting end there. "The Kingdom of Spades shows its gratitude for you being here and supporting the search for our lost heir."

The blond folded the white cloth and almost sheepishly added, "We must thank you for personal reasons as well. So, thank you." Arthur bowed and gave his footmen a sign to open the doors, indicating to the other royals they could leave. The room gradually cleared out with low chattering, but Arthur and Yao stayed behind until it was empty.

"Do you think someone is not telling the truth?" the black-haired man asked his Queen, leaning close to him.

"I don't think so. I know it sounds naïve to show so much trust, but at this point I only want to believe their truths to be the case," Arthur answered earnestly.

Yao nodded understandingly and nudged the Queen in direction of the open wing doors. "Let's accept things as they are. We don't have any other choice but to rely on them."

They walked out of the meeting room and followed their guests through the palace to see them off. The royals of Spades didn't have to show them the way out despite it being protocol. Every member of the royal houses basically knew the castles' structures by heart since family reunions were an integral part of their lives. They were all relatives at some point with all four kingdoms having once been as one.

A pair of piercing eyes followed the party of Jacks, Queens, and Kings from behind a corner in the grand hallway, looking on how they trudged over the carpeted floor like they had all the influence in the world.

A power I was meant to have, the figure thought grimly. Hastily, she brushed away the tulle from her hat, which was scratching her powdered cheeks. They are like a unit now. I never thought this could be possible considering the uncountable differences the kingdoms have. Or had. Could it be that my plan is at stake?

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she felt blood shooting through her veins. She threw one last glance at the royals and then disappeared in the dark hallway, hastily making her way to her chambers. She kicked open the doors and growled loudly. Angered, she threw her hat on her bed and ripped her shoes off her feet. Her skin burned and stung.

"Amber, Niel, Jack! Come here at once!" The woman shouted. And soon, her most trusted servants were standing in front of her and bowing deeply.

"At your service, Countess Roswitha," the three droned.

Roswitha sat down and threw her legs on a footstool. She crossed her arms over her chest, and at that moment, she didn't look like a forty-year-old woman, but rather like a petulant child about to throw a serious temper tantrum. She herself took notice of her ridiculous presentation and leaned toward her servants, scrutinizing them with a dark, raised eyebrow.

She licked her dry lips and ran her tongue over her teeth, letting silence speak for itself. Her servants, albeit used to similar behavior, grew uneasy on the inside under her judging gaze.

"You know," she started calmly while reaching for a glass of champagne sitting on a prepared tray. At least her servants could get that right. "I've been wondering about Kyle's mark recently…"

The servants were still standing rigidly in front of her, none of them twitching or moving a muscle.

"It is a shame he hasn't received the crown yet…" She took a dainty sip from the bubbly liquid and let the glass rest in her palm. "This makes me wonder… why that is." She looked at them and tried piercing their façade with her glowing, cat-like eyes.

"There are a few assumptions I have. Either Kyle is so unfit to be king that even," she paused and mulled over her next words, "your Jokers mock him, or…" Now she was clearly glaring at the three. "He isn't the heir.

"So, is there something you haven't told me about when you were supposed to eliminate the twins?" She asked sweetly with gritted teeth. Her jaws were so clenched that not even liquid could have a chance to get through.

Amber trembled slightly but still kept her mouth shut. Roswitha noticed her change in attitude instantly and stood up, her drink swirling in its glass between her fingers. The countess leaned so close to her, their noses almost touched. "Now, Amber, do you have something to tell me?" She took another sip.

The young woman trembled more and more, and tears coated her eyes. "I… I couldn't do it. I beg for forgiveness."

The other two manservants looked at the young woman in betrayal and then snapped their attention back to their boss. Roswitha seemed to have trouble keeping the champagne contained in her mouth, as she was now trembling and jerking with rage.

But the countess didn't want to embarrass herself by spitting it out and tried to calm herself down. At last, she swallowed and coughed, her throat raw from alcohol.

"You mean they aren't dead?"

Amber nodded weakly and leaned her torso away from the noblewoman, slightly surprised about not having been slapped yet.

Roswitha's legs gave out from under her, and she fell back on her chair in exhaustion. She held her temples in thought, and tense silence settled over the room. After a moment, she turned back to her servants. "Well, apparently, the mark eventually occurs when the rightful heir is dead, and not out of the kingdom like he assumed. This is useful knowledge for next time."

No one asked her about a "next time" since they would probably already be in prison for their crimes at that point. "Where are Edgar and Merlin right now?"

Jack chose to answer his boss to clear Amber of blame. "We gave them to a children's home in Diamonds."

Roswitha nodded weakly, accepting reality. "At least they keep track of adoptions in files. This makes things easier for your three." Her piercing gaze intensified, and her calm demeanor disappeared. "It should be obvious that you are going to correct your failures. I give you two weeks to kill both twins. Time is running out, and now that all the kingdoms are pulling together…"

She rose and straightened her back. "Take everything you need. The twins must be dead by the end of the month."

The servants bowed and left the room in a flutter to pack weapons and money, arrange for transportation, and leave Spades to fulfill their devious orders.

"To Diamonds!"


	4. Chapter 4

There was a storm over the shores of Hearts.

The two Jokers trudged over uneven ground. The sea wind howled around them as they struggled to find footing in the rough patches of grass. Grains of sand stung their faces. Lightning forked through the inky sky to touch the turbulent sea. Still, the Jokers were determined to reach their destination no matter the cost!

Peter chose wisely to hold on to Gilbert's black jacket and let himself be pulled forward by the man. He was a small boy, and he feared the angry wind would blow him away if he were not careful. Gilbert was always a reliable anchor in the storm to him. He felt protected by the elder Joker. For once in his life, he felt safe. It was almost as if Gilbert was the caring, (though sometimes intimidating,) big brother he never had.

Gilbert's white hair was tossed in all directions by the wind, making it resemble a snow storm. A barrage of freezing raindrops pelted their skin and clothes, but Gilbert couldn't have noticed. He was quiet and determined. With map and compass in hand, he battled the elements.

Peter coughed and tucked at the jacket, arousing Gilbert's attention. The man turned and squinted at the little boy.

"What is it?"

The little Joker held up his hand as a shield against the rain. "Don't you have a spell ready to keep us from getting soaked?! Or to make the wind go away?!"

Gilbert chuckled and turned away again. "Don't be a wuss! This is nothing! We're almost there, anyway!"

His words were comforting, but at the same time annoying. Why couldn't they use magic when their health was concerned? Peter sighed. Gilbert was always a tough cookie and never even batted an eyelash at something "trivial" like this. It was his carefree and reckless behavior that worried the boy.

Peter continued to mull over why Gilbert might show such little self-respect and quietly complained about their uncomfortable situation. The ground became steep, and Peter had to let go of the jacket to climb over slippery boulders and wet grass. The Joker in front of him was still as unfazed as ever, though he had decided to tuck away the map and compass for the time being.

After a few straining minutes, the two of them stood on top of a high dike that overlooked the gray and violent sea. The salty air stung their throats. Down below, enormous waves splintered as they crashed against black cliffs, creating ivory bubbles in their wake. Although this was a normal occurrence in Hearts, for it was an island nation, Peter still chose to cover half of his face with the hood of his own jacket. It did little to protect him. The rain slapped against his neck and ran down his back. This day couldn't get any worse, and it had only just begun.

The boy looked to the side and noticed the elder Joker was standing on a rock and using a telescope to make out the distant islands in the endless sea. The wind was swooshing around him, tearing at his clothes and bombarding him with angry bullets of rain. But Gilbert's mouth was set in an even line. He could only stand determined in his mission.

In that moment, Peter saw his companion as the epitome of strength. He stood so calmly despite being soaked and chilled to the bone. In hat and uniform, he might have looked like powerful general with rigid posture and raw power woven into his very being. Secretly, the little boy aspired to gain the same confidence one day. Gilbert made everything seem so easy, as if it were second nature!

"I found it!"

With a satisfying click, the elder Joker pressed the telescope together. He smirked down at the boy from the top of the boulder, then jumped down. With a cat's agility, he landed next to Peter. Gilbert roughly slung an arm around the boy to gently rub his shoulder. Peter wasn't sure whether this gesture was supposed to warm him up or to motivate him to move forward. But it didn't last for long, as Gilbert was already marching ahead. Carefully, they approached a slope. Gilbert crouched down and started to descend while whistling a tune that sounded strangely like a bugle call from Hearts.

Fear gathered in Peter's abdomen, and he was paralyzed. "You don't expect me to climb down with you, do you? That's incredibly dangerous!"

The elder Joker looked up to him with an unreadable expression at first. Then his lips stretched into their signature grin. "We're magic, Peter! You know we can't die, and even if we do get hurt, our injuries will heal up in no time!"

The moment he uttered these words, an awareness that they might not have helped crept up on him. Gilbert shook his head and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, leaving him clinging to the rocks with only one hand. The unsafe motion made Peter visibly cringe. "It's always funny how you're so confident when we're at home, but when it comes to things like climbing down a cliff, you become all quiet and timid."

Peter only stared dumbly at him. Gilbert couldn't be this dense, right?

The Red Joker rolled his eyes and suddenly jumped the last few meters, landing safely on the lower ground with a quiet thud, the sound muffled by the roaring waves. Next, he spread his arms and called out to Peter.

"Jump! I'll catch you!"

The little Joker gulped audibly and shook his head. "I won't!"

Gilbert groaned and rubbed his temples. "It isn't even that high! Maybe three or four meters! Come on, we don't have all day!"

Peter was adamant in not moving a muscle, but then the impossibly weird feeling came over him again. He had felt it… "pushing" him for a few weeks now, and the only reason why he didn't fret about it was because he knew Gilbert had it too. He couldn't describe what it was. Longing? Reaching? He was convinced it had never occurred when he was mortal. Nonetheless, his subconscious urged him to move on and to go along with Gilbert's stupid ideas.

"Alright, but I won't jump!"

His heart pounded in his ribcage and his hands trembled as he lowered himself and put one foot on a tiny ledge. One step at a time, he told himself. With every step he took, his fear lessened. He would reach the bottom safely. There was no need to worry.

Until he suddenly felt his fingers slip.

This combined with a strong gust of wind whipped him right off the cliff face. Peter shrieked in fear. The dark sky fell away above him as he plunged toward the earth.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around him before he hit the ground. Peter opened his eyes again to find himself face to face with Gilbert's grin. The man laughed and gently set him down. The little boy's legs gave out beneath him. He sat in a heap shivering.

"I thought you didn't want to jump! You almost gave me a heart attack there."

Peter frowned at him, his anxiety growing. "But nothing would have happened to me, right? Because I'm a Joker and all…"

Gilbert eyed him and grabbed his hand, pulling him up and along behind him and suddenly acting like a decent adult. Peter could hear him grumbling to himself something along the lines of "Stupid kid should be thankful…"

As they walked in silence, the young Joker took notice of the change in their surroundings. The rain was now gone with only a light sprinkling coming down. Rays of sunlight broke through the thick clouds, and the sea was much calmer than it had been before.

Gilbert climbed into an old, weatherworn fisher's boat, which was gently rocked by the waves. Moss and algae clung to its sides. Despite its shabby appearance, it still looked seaworthy. The elder Joker sloppily cleaned off the benches by tossing out the water plants and running his hand over the wood. He motioned for Peter to come help him scoop out the water in the bottom. The moment they were done, and the boy had sat down, he was smacked by an oar and saw Gilbert smirking at him with badly-hidden mischief in his eyes.

"You better start rowing!" the Red Joker exclaimed. Peter once again felt his anger flare up. Before he could voice his thoughts on this unfair arrangement, Gilbert untied the rope which attached the boat to a nearby rock and pushed the boat away, sending it out into the sea. He was quick enough to jump in before it could take off.

He kicked Peter's foot with his own — a silent order to start rowing. The boy growled, but started doing so anyway.

Gilbert made himself comfortable and took out his cherished map and compass again, giving Peter the directions. Straining his muscles to push the oar against the waves soon had the little boy whining and slowing his pace. In fact, he soon crossed his arms in total protest after smacking Gilbert with the device.

"You can do some of the work now! I'm not your servant! Why didn't you just turn into smoke to go wherever anyway?"

"I feared the wind over the sea would blow me off course, little know-it-all. And how would you come with me?"

Surprisingly, Gilbert handed him the tools and started bringing the boat forward himself without a second thought. But he couldn't help but tease the young boy a little. "Are you tired already? Well, I suppose there's not much you can do with such skinny arms."

Peter quietly hissed at him to shut up and take a look at his own meager appearance.

The water was crystal clear now, reflecting the brilliant sun in facets like a million mirrors. Although the sea connected the four kingdoms, being an island nation in the west isolated Hearts from the others. What a shame, Peter thought. It made visiting other countries much more difficult for ordinary people. Although, with Gilbert's strange reasons, the two of them were now traveling in this exact manner.

The little Joker glanced down at the map he was holding and noticed a small circle in the middle of the area labelled "Sea of Cards". Peter frowned. What could this mean? From what he could gather, each and every island belonging to Hearts was displayed, but there were even smeared coordinates written over the mysterious location.

Interesting.

"Gil, did you draw on the map?"

Gilbert cocked his head to side and mulled over the question. He looked at the spot on the map Peter's finger was resting on. "Oh, this is just the island we're about to visit. We'll need it for the spell to help us find the missing princes!"

"How do you know there's an island in the middle of the sea? It isn't even on the map!"

If Peter had looked at him more clearly, he might have noticed just how suspicious Gilbert behaved when he was asked certain questions. The man clutched the oar with moistening hands. He swallowed thickly, but still tried his best to keep up his cheerful expression.

There was no way he could tell the boy about the strategic point during the war. The island was unknown to everyone but him and some of his previous advisors. It had accidentally been discovered by Gilbert's vanguard marines when he had been King and had given the army of Hearts an almost unfair advantage over the neighboring kingdoms.

The patch of land had stayed hidden for so long because of dangerous currents swirling around it. There was only a passage of about twenty meters without them that allowed safe passage to its shores.

"I did some research," Gilbert explained as neutrally as he could, glancing to the side and avoiding eye contact. "The sea is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah…" Peter agreed and furrowed his brows. He opened his mouth again, but the words wouldn't come out. He wasn't even sure what to talk about. The young Joker knew Gil's thoughts easily went astray sometimes. It was a result of his thoughts going in three directions at once, he mused. Still, making such attempt at changing the conversation wasn't like him at all.

It was strange.

They rode in silence and pulled into clearer waters. The islands visible at the shore of Hearts were left behind; fewer and fewer could be seen with each passing minute. The sun reached its highest point as they crossed the open sea. Peter took off his hood and hungrily accepted a sandwich Gilbert offered to him. Noon went by, and they continued on. The boat was rocked by larger waves, though none of them were threatening. Peter was surprised at how fast they came forward. Gilbert seemed to really know the sea.

Had Gilbert been a sailor before becoming a Joker? Peter was too afraid to confront him with his personal questions as he was afraid of getting nowhere with them. Maybe Gilbert just didn't want Peter to know about his former life. But why didn't he? What was his former life? Strangely, the Red Joker seemed to know everything about Peter. His real parents' names, his foster parents' names, and even where he had been born!

The young boy bit his lower lip. When Gilbert avoided his questions like that, did he have something to hide? Did he do something wrong? Could he be a criminal? A murderer? A terrorist?

Peter eyed the man seated across from him. He saw how he was still steadily rowing the boat, deep in thought. He wiped some pearls of sweat off his pale forehead. Gilbert's white hair was more disheveled than usual. The blotchy red of a sunburn was already painted across his pale cheeks. He looked like an honest worker. Peter knew how to distinguish evil folk from good. His time on the streets together with the scum of society had shaped him and molded his senses. On the brink of death, he learned, the true colors of a person are shown. Whether he steals from others to survive to the next day or gives away his last crumbs of bread makes the difference.

It was the very man steering the boat who had shown Peter genuine kindness for the first time in his life. He had rescued him from a disease-ridden slum in Spades and given him shelter in his home. He had fed, loved, and educated him the best he could. A gush of shame overcame Peter. Of course Gilbert had to be a good man. He was his teacher after all.

No, more than that.

Gilbert was his brother.

In the distance, the pale moon was rising, but Gilbert was still tirelessly rowing.

"Aren't you tired, Gil?" Peter asked with a hint of concern lacing his tone.

Gilbert shook his head, drawing deep breaths. "Nah, this is nothing," he told him.

Peter rolled his eyes at that. Despite his soaked shirt and twitching arms, Gilbert was just too prideful to admit defeat.

How stupid.

Gilbert cleared his throat and downed the fresh water they had brought with before having a good look at the map again. He rubbed his chin and adjusted the compass. He then turned around and groaned loudly.

"Why didn't you tell me we're almost there!?" He complained while pointing at a huge, black lump on the horizon.

Peter blushed and looked to the side. "I didn't really know where we were going…"

The Red Joker shook his head and started rowing again. "Okay, now it can get dangerous. I have to concentrate really hard right now."

The boy gripped the sides of the boat in anxiety as Gilbert steered the boat closer to the island, masterfully avoiding devastating currents and reefs. At last, they set foot on the yellow sand at the shore. Gilbert planted the oar into the ground as if he claimed the new land as his own.

Gilbert shot Peter a face-splitting grin. "As much as we'd both like to take a break again, we have to get this done now. I have the pushy feeling again."

This piqued Peter's interest. "Can you tell me more about it? I have it too, and it worries me sometimes. Especially when I want to sleep."

"I didn't think you could be so straightforward," Gilbert commented with a knowing smile. "Sure, I'll tell you on the way to the top." They began walking, and even though Gilbert kept a tough posture, his movements were strained.

"I don't know much about it, but it's the same feeling I had which led me to you," he said.

Peter blinked and took hold of another rock. "It is? How does it work?"

Gilbert scratched the back of his neck before pulling his body up and planting his hands in sturdy grass. "If I only knew. But it's definitely a trait of a Joker. What I'm about to say is only based on my experience, so don't rely on it too much.

"Jokers have always been explained to us as gods. At least, this is the belief I've grown up with. Gods are said to be powerful beings with the duty of keeping the world in order. Maybe gods only exist in people's minds, but you and I — the magical Jokers — exist like anyone else. Like our Marks suggest, we have a reason to be what we are now. We were changed for a purpose. So this deep feeling of urgency might be like a lantern which guides us on the way to fulfilling our duties."

Peter was quiet and mulled over Gilbert's words. What he said made a lot of sense. Purpose. A duty to fulfill. But how could an abandoned child have any purpose at all? How could a greasy, dirty slum-rat be a god?

"How are Jokers chosen, Gil?"

The Red Joker grimaced but didn't let his charge see his expression. He had to appear strong and knowledgeable, or the boy would break. The truth was, he had absolutely no idea himself.

"That is a subject for another time. Right now, we have a problem to solve," he said as he held out one hand to Peter and pulled him up. The movement upset some seagulls that had been resting on the grass and were now flying hastily away.

The Red Joker took out the map again and measured the radius of the island roughly with his eyes. His steps were large as he trudged forward. When he finally stopped, he asked Peter for the compass and adjusted the paper map in the center of the island. The man squatted down, and the boy sat next to him, following his animated moves with his eyes.

"Alright, let's get this over with. Use the spell you had to learn a few weeks ago."

"The one that turns sticks into animals? Why?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Please focus. I meant the one that makes feelings and longings visible of course. You have to concentrate the energy in your finger. Put your fingertip on the red dot on the map, alright?"

Peter nodded reluctantly and placed his fingertip where Gilbert wanted it to be. He closed his eyes and tried to reawaken the tugging in his mind that had been bugging him for weeks now. Of course, when he needed it, it didn't come.

He opened his eyes and looked at Gilbert, silently asking him for help. The man crossed his arms and shook his head with steely determination. "I cannot simply tell you the answer when you want to become stronger. This is something you truly have to do yourself." His features then took on a kinder look. "Don't be too hard on yourself, though."

The boy nodded weakly and tried again. He saw darkness behind his eyelids. Pitch black nothingness. As time passed, he questioned why he was even doing this.

He was doing it to please Gilbert. He was doing it become stronger. He was doing it to find the lost twins. He was doing it because he wanted and needed to.

A small, glowing spark appeared in the darkness and started to grow. Glittering colors sprang through the endless space. Remnants of an exploding rainbow fizzed around him. The darkness grew brighter as if the sun itself came to greet him. It was suddenly so bright, Peter would have closed his eyes if he hadn't already done so.

A slap on the shoulder knocked him out of this dream-like state, and he could hear Gilbert cackling next to him.

"Well done, kid. You did it! Now we know where to find them."

Peter blankly stared at the spot his finger had been before, only to see it was somehow moved extremely southwest on the map.

"In Diamonds?!"

* * *

Three figures walked over a pier with hurried footsteps. The woman in the front led the two men behind her, grateful for their loyalty and friendship. They had all had quite troubled pasts, though these were mostly due to circumstances beyond their control.

They were servants — people who had given up their own needs and dreams to be at the beck and call of a higher individual. This was how their society worked. A handful of people ruled over thousands because they had the luck of being born into influential families.

Amber bit her lower lip, anxiety eating her raw. She hoped that no one would ever learn of the failed assassination, or even of the attempted assassination. She prayed that no one would learn about her deeds. She had failed her mistress to become a victim of her own incapacity. The young woman could well remember the day she stood over two toddlers with a glistening weapon and the order to kill them. The children's clothes were stained, and their skin was turning blue in the cold. Their tiny fingers gripped around each other for warmth. For comfort.

Oh, what had she done? Forcefully taking those children from their family and their home. If they lived, they didn't know the blood in their veins was royal! They didn't know of their heritage or their lineage!

She would never be able to do it.

She couldn't take another's life if she would be the one to survive.

The haunting memories she had tried so hard to forget had been unlocked once again. The doubts came and went, but… but now she had another chance to correct her mistakes. The twins would have to die this time. If she and the other servants couldn't drain the life from their eyes and the color from their skin, Roswitha would still find a way to make it so.

The young woman stopped abruptly and turned around, her friends almost bumping into her.

"What is it?" Niel huffed. He eyed the vivid townsfolk suspiciously and shifted his feet. Amber grimaced inwardly at him. They were in the same metaphorical boat, scrambling around to fix threatening leaks before it would sink.

"Our… person of contact is supposed to live near the docks," Amber said, her voice trembling.

Jack produced a strained smile. He placed a hand on her shoulder — a gesture of comfort and camaraderie before their descent into hell. "Don't worry, Amber. We'll get through it."

Amber wrapped her fingers around the man's outstretched arm, anxiously embedding her nails in the rough fabric of his shirt. "I hope so, Jack."

Her quavering voice and glossy eyes tore at Jack's heartstrings and he pulled her into a hug. She pressed herself up against his strong chest. The woman almost broke down at the motion, holding onto the man for dear life as she whimpered.

They stood there for a few minutes. A few people started to stare at the odd display. Niel tugged at Amber's skirt from the side with reddened cheeks. "Stop it, you two. You're making a scene."

Amber pulled away from Jack and wiped her eyes as she became aware of the bystanders. She was instantly embarrassed. Although they were (hopefully) unaware of their game for life and death, she could understand their negative reactions of seeing a virtuous woman showing two men affection in public. Luckily for her, they were in Diamonds now, where heartfelt displays weren't as frowned upon as in Spades and Clubs. She couldn't say where Hearts was on this scale as she'd never been there.

Niel decided to lead them away from the spotlight. Anyone who happened to shoot them sideways glances was shoved out of his way. In a secluded area, he pulled Amber's arm and pressed her against an exterior wall of a house. His eyes were furious, and his nostrils flared with every sharp breath he took.

"What was that about, huh?! You want us to lay low, but you just decide to make a scene. We know you're afraid. Hell, even I can't sleep at night, but if we want to get out of this alive we have to act like… Shit, I don't know, like mist! Yeah, we're going around doing evil stuff, but we don't want to get found out! I would never forgive you if you were the reason for that, Amber. Can we just agree to have each other's backs in this?"

Amber swallowed and surprisingly relaxed. She even managed to show him a small upturn of the lips.

"I would rather kill myself before endangering you. You guys are like brothers to me. We've gone through so much together," she whispered.

Niel let go of her hand and took a step back, ruffling his usually well-combed hair and kicking an abandoned work basket. He muttered curses under his breath and faced the other way.

Jack, who had been passive the whole time, helped Amber up after she had slid down the wall in exhaustion. He pointed out their location in an attempt to ease the atmosphere. "We have to be close by, right?"

Amber found steady footing as her legs finally slowed their trembling. "You're right! If I remember correctly, we only have to take a left turn and walk past the bakery."

"Then let's not lose much more time, shall we?" Niel said sourly. He stomped away with Amber and Jack following.

A couple of minutes later, the three of them were standing on a porch of a run-down tenement house. The other buildings were pressed together like bricks of a wall which obscured the shining sun at any time of day. It was shadowy, dank, and smelly. Chickens were free to run around. Some were even nesting on rotted wooden planks. Working and living in a castle must have spoiled them, Amber figured. It was horrible to see how other people had to spend their lives when they had access to clean, fresh water and warm beds to call their own.

Amber knocked at the thin door with a little hesitation. A long silence followed, and the woman looked at her friends with a worried expression. It would be quite troublesome and dangerous if they couldn't meet their secret connection.

Clanks and dull noises came from the inside of the house. A big thud sounded on the other side of the door as if the inhabitant had been running down some stairs and decided to jump the last ones. The door creaked open with caution, revealing half of a woman's face.

Amber smiled politely, and the two men behind her stood up straight, giving off their most professional impressions. The woman inside the house grinned broadly and tore the door open, stemming her hands on her hips and cocking her head to the side.

"Hello! What are such nicely dressed people like you doing here? You need some directions?"

The woman was quite young, probably more of a teenager. Her skin was sun-kissed despite her living in such a dark place. Her big eyes held an optimistic sparkle. Two big red bows bound her long brown hair in two pigtails, and altogether, she resembled the warmth this area was lacking. Diamonds truly was something else.

Amber couldn't help but be affected by her calming aura. "We are actually wondering if Louise Bergamont is still living here."

The woman leaned against the doorframe and propped up her chin on her knuckles. She looked pensive for a while until a smile of apology painted itself on her face. "Nah, she ain't. She was the owner of this house before my family moved in. I guess she left the country."

Amber's face fell, and she could feel Niel and Jack's doing the same. Fleeing the country after having actively participated in the kidnapping of Spades' heirs was probably the smartest move if one wanted to avoid suspicion and apprehension. Now with Louise gone, they had little to no knowledge of the twins' current whereabouts and were left with no other option than engaging more people in finding Edgar and Merlin.

"Don't be sad! If you're looking for a friend, you can choose me! I'm Michelle by the way!" The woman stretched out her hand, and Amber shook it. Although the friendly exchange was an unusual thing to do when meeting complete strangers, Amber was grateful for it. It was rare when she was even allowed to act as a casual member of society.

"I'm Am—"

She was cut off when two strong hands grabbed her shoulders from behind and pulled her off the porch. The woman in the house bore a look of surprise as she was dragged away. Amber only registered Niel thanking the girl for her help before saying his goodbyes and joining her and Jack. The door slid shut, and the potential new friend disappeared.

For the second time that day, she was lectured by Niel for her irresponsible behavior and short-sighted actions. Amber noticed her mistake and slapped her cheeks.

"I'm such a dumbass. I almost told her my real name!"

"No shit," Niel butted in, crossing his arms and looking like he had bitten into a lemon. It was a wonder one could still distinguish his expressions.

"She just had this vibe about her," Amber admitted with a small smile. "I hope we can be friends one day."

Niel crushed her dreams before they could grow more elaborate, and his female partner came up with even more ridiculous ideas. "No one wants to be friends with a criminal. Watch out from now on, or we will all pay for it."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Okay, the girl Amber met is Seychelles.

I actually prefer fanfictions without various OCs, but I didn't have the heart to turn canon characters evil. I just love my angels too much for this.


	5. Chapter 5

Curious green eyes followed the movements of vivacious birds in the sky, mesmerized by the glimmering sun shining through their feathery wings. The sky was a clear blue, and no cloud dared to come out and ruin the serenity of the moment. Antonio brushed away his brown locks of hair and smiled. It was a gorgeous day, and what better way to spend it than on horseback with his friends close behind him?

The man sighed deeply in comfort and tugged at the reins he was holding to stop his mare. The horse obeyed instantly, and Antonio petted it graciously in thanks. Every creature deserved respect, right? The trampling sounds of soldiers' footsteps and hoofbeats from behind came to a halt as well. All could wonder as to why their general had stopped leading them.

They stood still for a few moments without a word being said or an order being given. It was just man, beast, and nature. The horses sank their heads into high, fresh grass or moved their legs restlessly, whereas their human riders remained still as rocks and displayed the discipline of their profession.

Antonio looked at the trunks of the old trees surrounding them and grew curious about what they might have endured and witnessed over their long lives. How many deaths had they seen? How many changes in their surroundings? They must have been very wise.

A rustle in a pile of leaves on the ground aroused his interest next. Suddenly, a black beetle emerged from its leafy home and crawled over dark soil right next to Antonio's horse. Said horse ignored the bug and continued to munch her meal.

Still, Antonio was afraid his beloved horse would trample the small creature to death and chose to dismount in order to prevent such a tragedy.

This sudden motion made his soldiers stiffen, and they adjusted their grips around the weapons they carried, as they feared the worst. Antonio, however, calmly crouched down next to his horse and picked up the black beetle. He stemmed his free arm on his hip and laughed in astonishment at the pure beauty of nature. Nothing could compare to a moment such as this!

"What is all this about, huh?" Snapped a sour voice."Are you getting carried away again?"

Antonio knew exactly who it belonged to. He laughed and faced his apprentice. Lovino was sitting with crossed arms on his pony, (which he vehemently insisted was a grown horse,) and glowered down at the general in petulance. The soldiers behind them took a subconscious step back, knowing exactly to not accidentally provoke Sir Vargas into another of his infamous tantrums.

"Look what I found, Lovi!" Antonio reached up to shove the beetle in Lovino's face, though he had rather meant to carefully present it to him. He was just shorter than Antonio had anticipated, so his movements were a bit off.

"Get that thing outta my face! The heck do you think you're doing, huh? Why did you stop?!" The redhead swatted Antonio's hand away, hard glare never leaving the crawling black insect.

Gloved hands closed around the bug, careful not the squash it, and Antonio hugged it to his heart. The poor thing had almost tumbled down from the commotion! Nonetheless, Antonio's smile remained as bright as ever. "The moment was just too wonderful not to stop!" He exclaimed, but his explanation was met with a cold, flat stare.

As Lovino's teacher and companion, it was his job to make his charge aware of the fact that moments like these mattered, and he had to make sure that said charge enjoyed them, too. So, with a plan in mind, Antonio daintily put the beetle on a leaf out of harm's way, then reached out to help Lovino off his pony, erm, horse.

Surprisingly, Lovino tried to put as much distance between the outstretched arms and him as possible, almost falling off the other side of his horse. Antonio's smile faltered slightly at this display of defiance. His fingers started to twitch. "Lovino, come down," he forced.

Lovino shook his head, and his cheeks grew hot. His frantic mind was telling him the other soldiers were starting to talk, to whisper about him. No doubt they were trash-talking him because of Antonio being so darn embarrassing! If he ever found out their names, he would beat them into a pulp and guarantee their careers would be ruined forever! There was no way for them to get away unscathed!

"No, fuck you!" Lovino blurted out. But instantly, he regretted the weight of his words. That had just been harsh, even by his standards.

Antonio's expression turned dark, and he withdrew his arms, making Lovino sigh in relief. But he had relaxed too soon. The general stomped with his boot and pointed at a spot next to him. "You come down this instant!"

Oh, no. When Antonio started to use his voice of authority, Lovino could never quite predict the consequences, so he chose to slowly slide out of his saddle and stand where he was told. Antonio deflated and slumped his shoulders, looking at his charge apologetically. He reached up and neatly brushed over Lovino's sash, which was adorning his military uniform. "I didn't mean to yell at you. Please forgive me."

Lovino buried his face in his hands, wondering how fast he had gotten into this crummy situation when he had only wanted to know why Antonio stopped riding before.

"Get on with it," he muttered, hoping to get away as fast as he could from the judging glances thrown his way. This wasn't the first time Antonio had embarrassed him in front of the division, and it most likely wouldn't be the last.

"Alrighty! Follow me!" Antonio yelled and slung his arm around the shorter man, who ducked his head, trying to shield himself from the people observing their familiar exchange. "We'll be right back!" The general added to prevent worry from spreading among his soldiers.

Antonio then guided Lovino through several bushes and networks of branches until they climbed over a few boulders and found a hidden path. Grass snaked over the ground, and small flowers decorated the way. The older man grinned when he found a footprint of a hoofed animal in the wettish earth. He crouched down and traced it with his fingers after having removed his silky glove.

"Which animal is this from, Lovi?" He asked, even though the general knew the answer perfectly himself. This was a way of testing his charge's knowledge. Lovino couldn't become sluggish now, as he would have to stand on his own two feet soon.

He did this often. It reminded him of an old bet he had once made with King Gilbert. Either one was convinced his charge would turn out better and smarter than the other. And although Ludwig seemed like the perfect human, Antonio wouldn't trade Lovi for the world in order to win. The bet had been stupid anyway, but it served as a reminder of the friend Antonio had lost. He cherished memories of Gilbert like these because they were proof he had once been a good man… before the war and everything else.

Lovino groaned and cast him a dirty look. "You know exactly what it is, so don't ask me, idiot."

"No, I don't know what it is," Antonio said innocently and tilted his head to the side.

"Ugh, it's from a damn mountain goat. There are even more hoof prints behind you, so it's safe to say a herd has been here." He kicked up dirt and sent a pebble flying into the nearest bush.

"What are we even doing here?"

Antonio stood up and brushed the soil off his hands, silently feeling proud of Lovino's remarkable progress. He managed to convince Lovino that yes, they were following the path for a reason and no, it wasn't to test his tracker skills. Now it was time for the real talk.

Antonio sighed deeply and looked the younger man with a meaningful expression. "Why did you act up back there?"

Lovino groaned aggressively and blew hot air through his nostrils. Did Antonio really think it was time for another heart-to-heart? He couldn't have chosen a worse time. "It was nothing," the shorter clipped.

"I know that was a lie, so just tell me. I'm here to help you, Lovi!" Antonio reminded him.

A tense silence followed before Antonio could hear the other mutter under his breath.

"Say it out loud, Lovi," the general scolded.

Lovino threw his head away from him, his (adorable) curl wobbling up and down at the motion.

"You're the problem."

Antonio felt like he'd been slapped or punched right in the gut. He could only stare at what was visible of Lovino's cheeks in the way he faced away from him. All this time he had only meant well. "W-why am I the problem?"

Lovino's greenish eyes flashed dangerously, and his mouth was pulled into a snarl. "Are you seriously asking me that?! Do you think I like being coddled every damn second of the day?!" the young man snapped. "It's really embarrassing," he added quietly and kicked another stone away.

"I see… I just thought that—"

"Thought what, asshole? That I like the soldiers I'm supposed to lead gossiping about me? How the heck can I become more "mature," or whatever you want me to be, when you keep on treating me like a five-year-old?!" By now, Lovino had grown so angry it was a wonder he hadn't ripped the golden buttons off his jacket.

"I'm sorry! I really am! It's just that I can't believe how time has flown by already…"

"Then get it into your empty skull that this is what time does every moment: it passes! It's a wonder you've become a well-respected general with that airhead of yours. DAMMIT!"

It was true such a fault had always been pointed out to Antonio. He had been described as lazy, dumb, disorganized, and sometimes even downright unfit for his position, but the detractors always took it back when it was once again proven Antonio was great at his job and no one could rival his leadership skills.

Lovino had faced similar criticism, and although he didn't show it, it was clear to Antonio that

he sometimes valued the opinions of others about him a tad too much. It must all have started when Lovino had gotten a little brother. Feliciano had always been better at everything. With a single laugh, he could endear himself to everyone around him.

The same couldn't be said about Lovino, who had grown accustomed to throwing insults at any given moment and scaring potential friends away with his susceptibility to temper tantrums. After Lovino had even lost the inheritance of becoming Jack of Hearts from his grandfather's side and been replaced by his little brother, a bleak time had come for the young man. He had felt betrayed by his own family and shut himself in his room for months, avoiding any and all human contact.

In spite of this, the loss of his birthright had been a decision meant for profit on both sides. Lovino couldn't stand Gilbert, (and Ludwig in particular,) and Gilbert hadn't given off the air of wanting to have a ruler beside him anyway. It was he who even abolished the traditional "Rule of Three" and demoted Queens and Jacks to mere civilians.

So, one day, after Lovino had somewhat come to terms with his grandfather, both had shown up on Antonio's doorstep, (or in this case, the place in front of his army tent flap.) Antonio gladly took him in and saw it as his duty to "toughen him up," as his grandfather had so wonderfully put it. The two had grown closer over time, and now there was a great trust between them. They were quite a good team actually; Antonio's strategic thinking was outstanding, and Lovino made sure those plans were put into action. There was no way Antonio was going to let a sluggish soldier off the hook.

Antonio smiled at their shared memories, and his calming stance even tamed Lovino's anger. "I'll try to hold myself back a little. I'm really sorry," the general said earnestly.

"This is for real now, right?" Lovino asked, eyeing him suspiciously. But this was more of an ironic expression, Antonio noticed, and his smile widened.

"I promise."

They walked on and shared some of their favorite memories, without pressure and without reason. Antonio was glad Lovino had told him what he truly felt. When they reached the end of the path, both saw two figures clad in their own military uniform standing beside an old oak tree. Antonio's pace picked up, and the two figures met them halfway. The soldiers were obviously glad to see their general.

"General, may I have permission to speak?" One of the asked while they dutifully saluted.

Antonio nodded, his expression suddenly serious.

"We have found a path meant for about five soldiers on horseback, which gives access to the hidden farms in the mountains. We have cleaned the way and have prepared accommodations for the rest of our division," the man with the bushy moustache spoke clearly. Then his expression softened. "Thank you for your precise description of the mountain range which made it possible for us to find our way back." Then he bowed in the stiff way soldiers usually went about their business. "And thank you for meeting us here, General Carriedo."

He really wasn't an airhead.

* * *

Amber thankfully took Jack's hand as he helped her out of the carriage they had booked. The woman was glad for their decision as the terrain of their destination would have been difficult to overcome by foot. She couldn't remember Louise's orphanage being so far away! Now that she thought about it, it wasn't even Louise's building anymore.

Unfortunately, she and her company didn't have enough time to find out who the new owners were, but all were optimistic enough that their plan would work out. Even Niel supported this opinion, and Amber would have smacked him if he didn't since it was his idea.

She planted her foot on the grassy ground and nodded at Jack instead of openly thanking him.

He was beneath her for now. Her provisional husband was already waiting for her by the wooden fence that framed the big building. If she listened closely, she could hear voices of squealing children and scolding adults coming from inside.

By the time she made it to Niel, Jack had already taken the carriage elsewhere, in particular to a position which would serve as their way of escape should things go out of control. Amber drew a deep breath, silently preparing her nerves for their great act of showmanship. When she thought she had a good grasp on her emotions, she hooked her arm into Niel's and followed him to the entrance.

She would have laughed about their situation if it wasn't so serious. She pretending to be Niel's faithful wife? Ridiculous. Niel and Jack were like brothers to her, and she cared about them in a fully platonic way. She wouldn't be able to look at them in any other way. Fate had equally tied and destroyed their bonds in the time spent under their mistress. That old witch.

Her free hand stroked the fabric of her light-green dress in comfort. All of them thought it would be best to buy new clothes: firstly to not be recognized by the people they had encountered in the city a week ago, and secondly to appear more trustworthy. Their new clothes were less fancy than their usual uniforms but still bore enough adornments to give them the status of wealthy farmers. Getting information on the twins would be much easier, especially now that they bore the semblance of a loving husband and wife come to visit a children's home.

Their actions were despicable, Amber reminded herself. This act was truly getting to her head.

Dark blue eyes glanced at her from above, and Niel brushed away a lock of dark brown hair to tuck it back into his neat hairstyle before knocking on the great door. They had so much knocking to do.

The door was opened immediately, and a tall man with spiky hair shot them a grin.

"Hiya! C'mon in!" He said, obviously not one for formalities. Now Amber knew why the upper class held so many prejudices against workers.

But Amber couldn't care less because stage one of their plan, getting unsuspiciously into the building, was already complete. The couple stepped inside and took in the high ceilings and stained-glass windows at the end of the hall. Niel huffed under his breath at the dusty hardwood floor, the castle servant in him coming to light. Only then did Amber hear laughter and see the two children the man was swinging around with his strong arms. The stranger didn't appear to truly know what he was doing but covered his helplessness with a brig grin and told the newcomers to follow.

The servants obeyed and quietly followed the man through some corridors. The children turned their heads toward them a few times and not so furtively asked the man the questions about them that obviously couldn't be answered. Amber thought it was cute and would have answered the questions herself if Niel didn't have that sour look he so often bore or shoot the children electric glares. It was one more reason why their facade of a couple could only last so long.

At last, the man stopped and ushered the children into a packed room, out of which Amber could detect savory smells. This room was perhaps the dining hall. She was proven correct when a shorter, slimmer man with silvery hair appeared and growled at the taller.

"Mathias," the man spoke, and his voice could rival the coldness of Clubs' glaciers. Amber had never heard someone talk like this before, and that was saying something since she saw spoiled royals and nobles on a daily basis. "Why were you late? You know lunch started half an hour ago."

The man, Mathias, Amber corrected herself, ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sry," he slurred out. "It was playtime, and we got carried away…"

The silvery-haired man pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Just get inside. Emil needs your help. I'll join you two when I've gotten Mr. and Mrs. to Tino." He probably figured this Mathias had already asked them why they came to the orphanage and concluded they needed a few directions only higher-ups could give them.

Just like that, Mathias disappeared into the great room filled with noisy children and food, and the cold man's attention was completely on the couple. At least, Amber thought relieved, he introduced himself to them. It was enough to melt some of the uneasiness in the situation.

"I'm Lukas," he mumbled, but stared them square in the eyes and held out his hand. Amber was about to shake it, but Niel beat her to it. After the fiasco with the girl who was now living in Louise's old home, both agreed on Niel doing the talking and Amber being the faithful housewife, an asset. He firmly shook Lukas' hand and introduced them as the Bilous.

Niel was such a good liar. Amber was truly impressed. Sometimes, it wasn't a bad quality of his. It seemed that even Lukas was convinced, though his suspicious expression lingered.

"What business do you have with us?"

Amber stiffened. Of course he would want to know the reason himself. It seemed nothing could get past him. She wasn't sure how Niel would handle it, as it was their plan to only involve the person in charge. What good would it be if one staff member was already a big obstacle?

Niel didn't bat an eyelash and replied emotionlessly, "As you see, this is private business with utmost confidentiality. I am sure you are aware of the fact that children require one's undivided attention in order to give them the best life they can have."

The last argument had an effect on the stiff clerk, who set his jaw and let his blue eyes grow somehow more intense. Amber was convinced he would push the subject, but then his expression faltered a little, and a tiny smile found its way onto his face. "Follow me."

Then he simply turned around and walked away. Amber and Niel exchanged confused looks. They trailed the man for a while, the architecture never truly changing as they walked through the building.

The corridors and hallways made her feel like being trapped in a maze, even though the castle she worked in was much, much larger. They passed empty rooms with some loft bunks covered in monotonous sheets and a few simple games sprawled on the floor.

Lukas opened a single door and then looked on as the couple entered the room behind it, before closing the door again and walking away. The couple found themselves in an office, a huge mahogany desk occupying the center and sturdy shelves plastered on the walls. One could say much about this children's home, but not that it lacked funding. The last time they had been here, the building was tiny and didn't house nearly as many children as Amber thought it did now.

A polite cough came from the side of the room, and Amber squinted to make out a very small man with whitish hair. He was young, she noticed, and had a cheerful expression. He hopped onto the seat behind his desk and let his hands rest on the surface. "I am the owner of this shelter, but you can call me Tino. How may I help you?"

Was he for real? He was Louise's successor? Amber bit back a snort and hid behind Niel's shoulder to remain professional. Niel stepped forward, and Amber wondered how he could stay so focused when in company of a man whose body was comparable to that of a little white mouse.

"Oh, how impolite of me," the mouse-man, Tino, spoke to himself. "Please take a seat. I'll tell Berwald to bring in some tea."

The couple sat down, and while Amber wondered if he expected them to know who this Berwald was, the man in charge called cheerfully in direction of an adjoining room, a deep grunt answering him. Amber tried not to be concerned by the strange noise, but couldn't shake off the feeling that a monster was hiding in there.

Now that she thought about it, the time they had spent in the children's home thus far was similar to that of a quest! Two protagonists who had to overcome many obstacles in order to defeat the final boss. The woman hummed. Though getting through that Lukas was difficult, fairytales made it out to be much harder. The final boss was usually protected by a huge, domineering dragon.

Amber instantly regretted thinking about this as a solid figure emerged from the shadows, heavy stomps marking the steps he took. Hard eyes glowered down at them, and gigantic hands pushed teacups in front of them. Then the man who easily dwarfed anyone in the room chose to stand beside his leader, who patted his staff member on the arm in thanks while still smiling away.

"Now that we are all settled in, why don't you tell me about your concerns?" The tiny man asked, his round, marshmallow cheeks still pushed up.

Niel cranked his neck up and cast the huge man behind the desk a glance before his gaze swept over to Tino. "We would like to talk about two children we gave to this home when it was still under Mrs. Bergamont. You see, we were close friends and were wondering if we could get information on how our fosterlings are doing."

Tino furrowed his eyebrows, his smile falling. "Fosterlings?" he repeated. "May I please have your names?" He looked at Amber with expectation.

Amber coughed and smiled slightly. "We are the Filous," she said with certainty, but the moment the last word left her mouth, she noticed her mistake. Niel would kill her.

Her partner just sighed in desperation and handed her a handkerchief. "Please excuse her. We are the Bilous. My wife has caught a cold and is feeling a little under the weather."

Amber took the handkerchief and sniffled. Niel rubbed her shoulder like the loving fake husband he was, though his grip was a little too tight on her arm.

Tino looked at her apologetically. "I'm truly sorry to hear that, Mrs. Bilou. Here, have a cup of tea."

The man motioned to the steaming cups in front of the couple and then to the basket of biscuits at his side. Amber took her cup and wrapped her hands around it as she blew the steam away.

There was no way Niel would ever let her talk again.

"So, you would like to see how the children are doing? I must let you know that we cannot give such delicate information to strangers."

Niel straightened the tie around his neck. "Of course we are aware of this, Mr. Tino. As unfortunate as it is, we cannot contact our old friend Mrs. Bergamont anymore, and we are at a loss of what we should do. The moment we found these two children, we were instantly enchanted by them. We thought about adopting them ourselves, but our financial situation was critical, so we had to give them up and put their needs first. But now that we are in the position to travel, it would be fulfilling to see the people they have become."

Amber almost choked on her drink. She had never seen Niel so emotional before. Fake or not,

Tino was swayed by his words and leaned his head to the side in understanding. He then clapped his hands and stood up. "I'll see what I can do for you. What are their names?"

"Alfred and Matthew," Amber said quietly. She could truly never forget the names they had chosen for the princes after they kidnapped them. It seemed Niel was surprised by her not messing up again. Amber smirked inside her cup.

Tino nodded and then asked sheepishly, "Could you also tell me when you gave them to us?"

"It was seventeen years ago."

Tino's eyes grew huge, but then he went into another room searching for the correct record book.

Scraping noises and dull sounds echoed back at the couple which avoided eye contact with the grim giant still standing behind the desk. His expression seemed to have grown even more scrunched-together after the couple had uncovered their intentions. The steely gaze ran right through their bodies.

After what felt like an eternity to Amber, the little man came back, cleaning the thick book he was holding with his sleeve and opening it in front of the couple. He turned endless pages, until a familiar stain of black ink in the top corner of a page stood out to Amber. She asked the owner to leave it open, and it truly was the sacred page they were looking for.

Tino read the lines, and his expression shifted a few times until it settled on confusion. "Huh, I wonder why your names aren't written here. We usually take note on who brings children here."

"Oh, that must be due to out connection to Louise," Amber said quietly. "We were so close, she thought it wasn't necessary for us since she knew exactly who brought them in." Turning to Niel, she hugged him and mumbled into his shoulder how happy she was to see her boys again, albeit loud enough for the two the men in the room to hear.

Niel read the page and told his assistant the twins were adopted shortly after they were registered. Amber had to keep up her concerned, mother-like act and commented, "Of course the angels would be adopted that fast," which enchanted Tino even more. If only the dragon in the shadows would finally let them off the hook. His glare not only produced uneasiness in Amber, but also a fear that grew with every passing second. She had to get out as fast as she could. Where was their burly Jack when they needed him? She only hoped he hadn't parked the carriage too far away.

"Here, please take this. I can see why you were such good friends with my mistress," Tino said, smiling, and held out a small sheet of paper on which he had copied the address of the twins' home. Niel took it without hesitation and bowed his head in thanks. Amber did the same and shook the small man's hand energetically. They had taken their prize.

"Thank you so much for your aid, Mr. Tino, we are so thankful. We will soon see our babies again," Amber said. Niel interrupted her before her thoughts went astray again and guided her through the door.

"Do you think you can find your way out, Mr. and Mrs. Bilou?"

Niel shook his head in embarrassment, and Tino kindly led them to a glass door which gave them access to the garden. Amber was glad she could make out Jack's silhouette waving at them not too far away. The couple hooked arms again and neared the carriage after having waved back at Tino a few times. Jack greeted them hurriedly before mounting the driver's seat. After the pretend couple was safely inside, he slapped the reins, and the horses started moving. Soon the three had disappeared on the horizon, and Niel stared at the sheet between his fingers with a wide grin.

* * *

After the sun had gone down and the children were cared for, Tino put back the book he had shown the couple with a content sigh. It was always wonderful to make people happy, especially families. He noticed Berwald's presence behind him and faced him with a smile. "You were extra serious today, weren't you?"

But Berwald remained quiet. It wasn't his usual taciturn disposition; this silence was different. Something was on his mind.

Before Tino could ask him about it, the huge man handed him a folded sheet. Tino took it and unfolded his curiously. It was a painting of two young men with blond hair and glasses. The emblem of Spades was proudly displayed above them. Tino then read the short text underneath and looked up at Berwald. "I didn't know they picked up the search of the missing princes again. Okay, why are you showing me this?"

A big finger pointed at the thick book Tino had just put back on the shelf and then at the drawing of the two princes. "Suspicious," Berwald grunted out.

Tino snorted and held his nose. "You don't think they are the same boys, right? Ah, Ber, your sense of humor is truly something else."

The big man furrowed his brow and actually spoke in full sentences. It was something he hadn't done for the past two days. "The princes went missing seventeen years ago, when they were only children. The Queen is suddenly looking for them as well as the couple from today. They didn't act like a true couple, in a romantic relationship or not, and what they said was too exaggerated."

Seeds of doubt were planted in Tino's mind. They blossomed quickly as he came to a realization, because despite him always keeping to himself, Berwald's skills of perception were far above his. "They— I—!" Tino stuttered.

"What have I done?"

* * *

 **A happy new year, everyone!** **What better way is there than to start it with a new chapter, huh?**

 **Notes:**

 **"filou" means scoundrel**

 **And Tino reminded me too much of principal Nezu from MHA in that situation.**


	6. Chapter 6

Alfred watched the doctor go with suspicion etched into his face. The elderly man skipped over the threshold of the doorway with a strength that contradicted his physique while the numerous potions strapped to his belt jingled. The young man decided he had seen enough of the lunatic for the day and swung the door shut with a tired roll of his eyes. He would never let that man into his family's house ever again.

Disappointed, he sauntered back into the living room of their small cottage and slumped down onto the hard sofa where his little brother was sitting. Matthew glared at the piece of paper the doctor had left them with the same annoyance Alfred was feeling. He shook his head and carefully sat down the yellowed business card on the coffee table in front of them. He opened his mouth tenderly and propped up his head on his arm.

"I genuinely thought the doctor could be useful…"

Alfred groaned like an angry stag while jerking forward and glaring at the offending piece of parchment. "Best doctor in the land, my ass! If he were that, then Diamonds would only be inhabited by animals by now. That guy was nothing more than a charlatan greedy for money!"

"Honey, please stop swearing. Your father and I didn't know about his… questionable skills. I promise we will find another one," his mother said from where she was standing next to the dinner table and handing his father a stained cloth.

"We just have to wait a little until we can afford another one," spoke his father, eyes drifting down to the floor as he wiped off the sweat that had formed on his brow. The last few weeks had taken a toll on the man as if years had gone by.

All of a sudden, Alfred was infected by the melancholic atmosphere in the room. He had to stop being impatient and tolerate the ever-growing pain in his right shoulder where the troubling mark was situated. The thought of his parents suffering hurt him much more, though.

He had never seen his mother so restless before; every evening, she did the dishes thrice, as if she couldn't remember having done them already. She usually kept her hair in a neat bun, securing it with many pins, whereas now it was either sprawled over her shoulders in tangles or caught in her bonnet. But the worst was the change in her expression. The corners of her mouth were now perpetually down-turned, and the bags underneath her eyes didn't seem to disappear either.

His father was also worse off. With his shirt unbuttoned and his trousers in a more worn state than usual, he looked like the beggars Alfred used to see on his father's business trips. Those happy, unburdened days seemed so far gone that Al wasn't sure if he had really even experienced them. The time was showing signs in his father's face. The wrinkles in his forehead were getting deeper and more noticeable, and then there was the dead look in his grey eyes the cloth he was using couldn't shield from Al's knowing gaze.

Sometimes, Al couldn't bear the sight of them because he knew he was the reason for their worry. They all just loved each other too much. He wished there was more distance between them so his parents could deal with the other hardships of peasantry instead of their lives revolving around his well-being.

He mentally kicked himself for having been such a crybaby in the last few days, but the pain had kept him up all night. He was scared of sleeping. He was scared of it spreading like an incurable disease. He had heard of so many parents losing their children this way. His parents shouldn't have to experience the same grief, and he couldn't leave Matthew behind, either.

Each night, his mother had whispered soothing words into his ear and pressed him against her chest as if he were still a little boy and not a legal adult. It was all becoming just too much. His family's current financial struggle, his unidentified sickness, their worrying…

The deep voice of his father brought him back to reality, and his eyes widened at what he picked up from his parents' conversation.

"—I'm sure we can ask Monsieur Durand for a little favor. Then we will be in debt, but Al's problem might be solved permanently."

In debt?! There was no way he was letting his parents go through with that! They knew as well as he did that Monsieur Durand wasn't a benevolent human being by any means and would just use this situation as an opportunity to make his family dependent.

"No way! You can't do that, dad!" Al shrieked. He jumped to his feet, startling his brother.

"Al, really, it's nothing major—"

"Dad, no! I can't let you do this! You can't sell your souls for me!" Blood was pounding in the young man's ears. He wasn't angry, but he was stressed. He balled his hands into fists and clenched them at his sides.

His mother was nervously fiddling with her apron and staring at her son with wide eyes. "What else are we supposed to do?"

This question drained all the air in the room, and Al felt like suffocating. How should he know? How should any of them know? He had to get out. Everything was his fault, after all.

The youth shook his head and stormed out of the room, sprinting through the front door and disappearing in the high crops of their fields underneath the evening sun.

"I'll handle this," Matthew told his parents with determination and took after his brother.

Luckily, he knew exactly where his place of refuge was. This was why he wasn't in the least surprised to find Alfred's shock of blond hair sticking out from behind a bale of hay in the barn. What shocked him, however, was to find him sobbing into his shirt and hugging his knees to his chest.

"Al?" Matthew asked attentively, inching towards him as a measure to not scare his brother. Matthew knew how Al's pride could sometimes get in the way of common sense, and he was convinced he didn't want to see him at his breaking point.

Al glanced at him from behind damp strands but didn't acknowledge him any further. Instead, he glared at the hooves their cow Chloé was digging into the muddy ground.

Matthew slid down the horse box his brother was leaning against, and silence settled over them. Matthew knew better than to disturb his brother. His presence alone usually gave Al enough power to sort through his troubles. But this seemed different. Al faced away from him and shook.

The only sounds came from the farm animals inside the barn: chickens clucking and rustling their feathers, the horses occasionally scratching their necks at the pillars holding up the roof, and Chloé's horns bumping against her drinking trough. The setting always used to soothe Alfred, so why didn't it seem to be working now?

"Al, it's gonna be alright. Mom and dad can do this, and they have us. We can take on more jobs to pay for the doctor."

Alfred's head snapped up, and glared at the timid boy. Matthew jerked in surprise. He had never seen such fury in his brother's eyes, least of all directed at him.

"It will not be alright! We're already barely scraping by, and you want to go to that one school mom and dad have been saving for—"

"I can go there later, if at all…"

"—I don't want it to be my fault you can't pursue your dreams. I'm feeling so guilty, Mat. I can't handle looking at mom and dad. All I can see is the misery in their faces that I caused."

Matthew drew in a sharp breath, and his mouth opened and closed in disbelief at what his brother just revealed. "You're feeling guilty?"

"Of course I'm feeling guilty! I'm the one in trouble, okay? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Honestly, Matthew didn't know whether to laugh at his brother or to just pat his back in comfort. This was a whole new level of Al-stupidity. He chose the latter option with a light chuckle.

"How can a mark that randomly appeared on your shoulder be your fault? We all believe you wouldn't pull a stupid prank like that with us."

Al scrunched his eyebrows and tenderly leaned into his brother's touch. "What kind of sick prank would that be, huh?"

A small smirk formed on his brother's lips and his eyes twinkled with mirth. "I mean, it could be a tattoo…"

Alfred gawked at him, and his arms fell away from his knees. "In the name of the Joker, that's bullshit." Despite all odds, Al snorted, already feeling a little better. His brother somehow always knew how to calm him. "Even if that were, for some unholy reason, true, I'd definitely remember something like that!"

"Maybe you were drunk when it happened!"

Al flicked his brother on the nose. "Then I have a bone to pick with my friends who let that happen to me."

Matthew snorted and punched Alfred's arm. "Yeah, your imaginary ones."

The elder put his hand over his heart and put on a pained expression. "You wound me, bruh."

Matthew chuckled and hugged his brother. His lips stretched into a content smile when he felt Al's arms wrap around him. "You're such a bonehead to think any of this is your fault. We'll figure out what it is."

Alfred's expression fell and he wiggled out of the embrace, his fear crawling back into his consciousness. "And what if we don't? I used to ignore the pain coming from that thing and think it was fun, but now it's really worrying me. What if it doesn't go away?"

"It will, Al. We have to be optimistic. It's the only thing we can do right now. I know it's much to ask from you, but please hang on. Stay calm and… be my dumbass big brother again. I really miss you."

It physically hurt Alfred to hear his brother ask this. He hadn't noticed how his restlessness had affected Matthew.

"Okay. Mat, you're really the coolest person I know."

"I'm one of the only people you know," Matthew answered with a playful smirk. Only a few knew that Matthew had the same characteristics as Alfred inside him, but at this hour, even Alfred was surprised by his brother's change in character.

"Seriously, what has gotten into you? What's with that attitude all of a sudden?"

"I had to fill in when you were depressed all day. But I'm ready to let you be annoying as hell again. I've got to keep my good reputation."

A chicken waddled by and looked at them with its beady eyes. Alfred regarded it with determination. "Alright, we've got some financial stuff to figure out. And this time, we won't let a lunatic into our house!"

Alfred scrambled up and pulled his brother to his feet. Matthew laughed, glad that his short therapy had helped.

"Definitely! That guy wanted to cut it out of your backside. Just like that!"

Alfred batted some straw out of his hair and shook his head, his annoyance at the doctor coming back. "And then he wanted to rub some pink slug juice into my wound as disinfectant. I don't even know what disinfectant is. And he probably didn't know either. Those old people, always using fancy words to intimidate others…"

"But he did rub the orange stuff over your skin."

"Ew, I totally forgot about that. I better wash it off."

Alfred unbuttoned his worn shirt and stuck out his right shoulder like he had done so many times that day. Instantly, Matthew's eyes fell on the golden crown over the proud Spadian symbol — the reason for their troubles. The golden color was so radiant, it was almost shining in the darkening barn.

This was why the peering eyes that had been looking at them from the moment they started sitting together widened, and a breathless voice whispered against the barn's exterior wall: "It's truly them."

Meanwhile, Matthew pulled up his brother's shirt again, covering the mark. His brother looked confused, but Mathew held up a hand and shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "I think the ointment the lunatic put there was already absorbed by your skin."

"Eww, nooo!" Alfred started scratching imaginary itches on his arms, fully disgusted. "Who knows what he put in there?"

A creak from the barn door alerted the two young men, who instantly stopped their banter to direct their whole attention to the doorway.

Ever so slowly, almost carefully, the door was pushed open from the outside. A clothed leg came into view, followed by a long dress, and then the face of a pretty woman. Her expression was unreadable, but the siblings might have described it as fearful if they had had enough time to scrutinize her. Immediately after the woman, two strong men burst into the barn.

The blond siblings jerked in surprise, and even though Alfred was an outgoing and approachable person, he knew which people meant trouble, these three definitely counted as such.

Alfred swallowed and put on a strained smile, choking out some questions that might help them deflate the tense situation. "Erm, can we help you?"

For a second, he and the woman locked eyes, but her face contorted into a strained frown, and she barked instructions to her companions. "Bind them, quick! I'll stay at the door!" She hurriedly got hold of the wooden door's handles and watched as the two men attacked the siblings.

"We want to get this done nice and easy…" spoke the taller man while he was untangling the thick rope dangling from his belt and bringing it into an advantageous position in his hands.

To Matthew, it very much looked like he was about to throw a lasso at them, and he pushed his brother out of the way in the last second, the two of them landing painfully on the cold ground.

The shorter man got into a fighting stance, letting the siblings know he was definitely armed. "Dream on, Jack. Don't you see? These are farm boys. They are as thickheaded as they come!"

Alfred looked up in alarm and kicked his legs after clenching his hand around a metal rod lying around. What were these guys after?!

The strangers were closing in on them with menacing expressions. The shorter man pulled his sword out of the sheath with a sharp, clean sound and held it in a secure position. With their backs in a corner, Matthew tore at his brother's shirt in fear, shaking like a leaf, while Alfred had a glaring match with the two men.

"We might as well do it here," the smaller man decided, scrunching his mouth into a thin line while he raised his sword over his head to bring it down on the two boys. "This is a secluded place. No one's gonna hear them."

Alfred shoved his brother aside and blocked the blow with the rod, mustering enough strength to push himself up despite the pressure the stranger was putting on his arms. The man's eyes widened in surprise, and Alfred exploited the moment of weakness to land a heavy hit on his leg, making him stumble and cry out in pain.

"You'll regret this, boy," the man threatened, ignoring the wound forming on his leg and regaining his proud disposition, eyes glinting with anger.

The burlier man took after Matthew, who had gained refuge behind Chloé. The sturdy cow stomped her legs in annoyance at serving as barrier in a one-on-one fight. Matthew shielded his eyes from the flying dust cloud which seemed to grow thicker and thicker with each passing second while avoiding being squashed between the cow and the wall he was pressing against. The stranger scared him a lot, but he was more worried about Al. For a second, he saw how Alfred was blocking further blows from the other man, making Matthew stare in awe at his brother's precision.

He wasn't the only one gawking at Alfred's sword-fighting skills.

"I'm surprised, farm boy, you're truly holding your own here," the brown-haired man snorted. He shot Alfred a condescending look while they danced around each other.

"It seems like your fancy teachers at rich school did a pretty bad job at training you,"Alfred bit back with a scowl and slashed anew.

The man's breath caught in his throat for a second, as did the woman's by the door, though hers went unnoticed. Instead, she barked new orders at her comrade, her voice slightly cracking. "Stay concentrated, Niel! Don't let him know about things he shouldn't!"

Alfred's eyes widened in surprise. Although his life-and-death situation was horrifying, it did get more interesting after all. "What shouldn't I know about, huh? I have a pretty damn good reason to know why you're here!"

The blond woman started shaking even more, involuntarily rustling at the door handles she was now clinging to. "D-don't…"

His foe, called Niel apparently, not that it really mattered in the moment, cast her a dirty look over his shoulder and muttered under his breath.

Alfred kicked a bucket at him. Its contents splattering on the floor, and Niel almost slipped.

"You brat! Jack, leave the Maple Leaf alone and come here! We'll deal with him later."

Jack had almost gotten to Matthew after having tamed the wild cow, but followed Niel's orders nonetheless. Drawing his sword as well, the two companions struck down on Alfred in an almost manic manner, all grace and patience of sword-fighting lost. Meanwhile, the woman buried her head in her hands, horrified at what she was witnessing and shrieking uncontrollably.

Alfred was being pushed back, barely holding his own against the two attackers. He suddenly lost his footing as he tripped over the same bucket he had just used as weapon. He cursed at himself for not looking until he slammed head-first into the knocked-over gardening tools behind him and stumbled dizzily to the ground. His pulse hammered in his ears. His hands were stinging. The heat rushed to his head, and he groaned.

A stream of blood flowed from his temples. He reached a trembling hand up to find the source, but never let his attackers out of his sight. With the other hand, he made a grab for the rod he lost hold of, but Niel's foot came pressing down with full force before he could reach it.

"Don't get any ideas, kid."

He pierced Alfred's throat with the tip of his sword, rubbing in his fatal victory.

Alfred truly wished his gaze screamed murder so all of them would just disappear. Glancing to the side, he saw his brother starring at him in horror, cheeks stained with tears and mouth hanging open. Jack made a move and picked up his rope from the ground before approaching Alfred slowly.

While he bound his arms and legs together, almost cutting off circulation in his captive's limbs, Alfred was still under the stony glare of Niel. His skin was throbbing, and he was bleeding in places he hadn't realized. Small cuts littered his hands, probably from when he had used the rod as defense. Angry red blotches formed on his cheeks, and sweat was drenching his rags as Alfred drew sharp breaths both from sudden exertion and fear.

When Alfred was securely wrapped in thick rope, Niel's eyes drifted to Matthew, keeping their coldness. "Get over here now, and we can all leave peacefully."

Matthew cautiously left his hiding spot, keeping his distance to the menacing men, but ran the last few meters to his brother, falling to his knees and holding the captive tightly. No one said a word until Matthew endured the same fate as his brother, sitting next to him broken and scared, barely making a sound when he was tied to his sibling.

"We won't go anywhere with you, assholes! We won't surrender!" Alfred snarled at the assailants. He wouldn't give up. Ever. He had to be his brother's and his own hero!

The young man thrashed his feet at the two men in vain. They simply avoided his thrusts and stuffed a cloth into each of their mouths to silence them. "We can't have you alerting anyone, after all."

The woman approached the party hurriedly, her expression shifting from relieved to terrified in a matter of seconds. She was apparently unable to sort out her emotions. She clasped her hands in front of her, then used them to hug around her middle until she settled on biting the fingernail of her left thumb.

"You did it! Let's get out of here, fast!" She choked out, as she glanced at the two boys on the floor, the same fate awaiting them they failed to see through all those years ago.

The two men grabbed the ropes holding the two siblings together and hoisted them up, carrying them to the door. The woman fumbled with the door handles, still too nervous to control her movements. She was muttering under her breath like she was living through a psychosis, which would have made Alfred curious if he hadn't been their victim.

Niel tapped his foot, irritation growing in his stomach. "Hurry up, Amber! Someone could come in at any second with the noise we made!"

And truly, in that moment, the door was kicked open from the outside, which slammed into Amber's face and knocked her unconscious. Niel and Jack let go of their prey in shock, and the siblings hit the dusty ground.

Unfortunately, Alfred landed on his brother, his weight and the force of their fall burying the younger into the dirt and effectively knocking him out, too. Alfred tried his hardest to get off his sibling, but the shadowy form barging into the barn caught his attention.

The person, definitely a man, seemed like a mythical creature. His facial features were shadowed by the rising moon in the background, which highlighted his brawny frame. The light also showcased gleaming medals and epaulettes adorning his uniform, which made Alfred gasp. He had to be part of the army! Were they saved?

His attackers wasted no time in raising their weapons again to charge at the newcomer, who dove out of the way with mesmerizing grace. After giving the chicken a respectful nod, he took out his sword and swung it with ease. Sharp clangs ran out against the stillness of the night.

The way he fought against the two men seemed to Alfred like one of the fancy dances he imagined nobility to have. What the elder sibling could see from his vulnerable position on the ground, the new stranger seemed to have no problem at besting them. It almost appeared like he was toying with them, as he had a slight smirk and glint in his eyes.

The man pounded Niel in the stomach with one precise movement, the handle of his sword knocking the wind out of him and making him curl in on himself. Alfred was almost proud of himself as the stranger picked up the same items he had used to fight against his attackers. The man threw the rod with such force at Jack that his sleeve, and thus his whole body, was pinned to a pillar. The man let out a cackle, which should have rung alarm bells in Alfred's head had they been in a normal situation, but with the edges of his vision going blurry and the warm liquid running down his neck, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

Even with the screeching chicken in the background.

The presumed soldier slammed the bucket into Jack's face, finishing the job, and threw one last glance behind him to check if the two others were knocked out, too. The woman was nothing more than a limp pile of meat wrapped in a dress, and the other man was puking on the floor, looking at the ceiling with blank eyes.

This would do.

Then the man approached the two siblings and crouched down in front of Alfred with curiosity in his eyes. The elder sibling, however, could only make out a dark shadow, maybe two, through the cracked lenses of his glasses as his eyes slowly slid shut. He fell into nothingness, and the only thing he heard on his way down was a deep, muffled voice shouting: "Shit, they're losing too much blood!"

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I'm terribly sorry for the long wait! Yeah, our protagonists don't know what they've gotten into...

Also, my awesome beta reader Syntax-N added a very characteristic line which all of you Hetafata fans should be finding with ease. XD


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